


The Return

by Aysu



Series: Guardians [3]
Category: Epic Battle Fantasy (Matt Roszak Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Language, Non-Graphic Sex, Sexual Themes, Violence, WIP, dragon!Matt, half-dragon!Natalie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aysu/pseuds/Aysu
Summary: The missing link returns, but dangerous forces are still at play.
Relationships: Lance/Anna, Matt/Natalie
Series: Guardians [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015876
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	The Return

**Author's Note:**

> Like the other two, this is a work in progress. Someday, I hope to break it up into the chapters is should be in and add the missing pieces. And maybe even do a decent summary. Wouldn’t that be neat?

Miles, upon miles, upon miles away, an entombed altar deep beneath the earth of Goldenbrick pulsed with a gentle light. Mysterious white stone carved with ancient runes rose high from an obsidian base, pointing towards an arched ceiling jagged with stalactites. Ancient stories in a tongue long since forgotten were scrawled all along the monolith alongside raised reliefs of ancient cities and fearsome cats. Slinking shapes lurked in the shadows, hungrily eyeing the glowing monument, but unwilling to step into its glowing aura. A brilliant flash scattered them, and hisses rang out before fading into silence.

When the light faded back to the former glow, a slender shape had appeared at the base of the altar. A quiet groan echoed eerily before pale arms began shakily pushing a young woman off the frigid obsidian. Long hair cascaded over pale shoulders and was tucked behind a faintly pointed ear before the slender figure flicked one wrist and a ball of glowing light appeared over a palm. She flinched slightly in surprise, as though not sure where the light had come from, but quickly recovered. The brighter glow illuminated brilliant orange hair, and clear, grey eyes that blinked about the space in dazed confusion as the young woman staggered to her feet. There were no clothes on her body, but she didn't seem to notice as she nervously took a step forwards.

"Wh-where...?"

Her uncertain voice echoed back to her, and her shoulders timidly hunched a little before straightening. With a final glance around, the woman stepped down from the altar, her bare feet nearly silent on the stone. The ball of light cast eerie shadows on the various stones and statues she passed, and her eyes nervously glanced about, certain that she was being watched, but not from where. Nothing attacked her as she passed under a once-grand archway formed of the intertwined tails of two massive cat statues that towered well above her head and into a tunnel. Something about the statues was familiar and made her uneasy, but she didn't know why. A damp, chill wind blowing down the tunnel pushed the troublesome thought from her head and she shivered while hugging the arm not sustaining her light closer to her body, tucking the limb under her breasts.

The short passage soon opened up again into what looked like a massive, abandoned city. Everything was in ruins, now, but the woman imagined that it must've been grand, once. Soaring arches still stretched between magnificent spires in some places, while the crumbled remains of others were scattered across the ground in destroyed chunks. The streets, though cracked and broken up in many places, were made of finely smoothed cobblestone laid out in carefully planned paths that wound between the many buildings. Long-dried canal beds were filled with rubble or dirt, and rusted grates for sewer entrances stood out like barred cell entrances. A number of the largest buildings sported enormous carved sigils on their fronts of everything ranging from twisting trees to crossed swords. She wondered what the symbols were for. To identify buildings, or perhaps prominent families had once lived in them, or maybe the carvings were simply for decoration and didn't mean anything?

"Am I the only one here?" the woman wondered aloud as she walked between the buildings and stared around.

Her voice was low, as though she thought that to speak loudly would desecrate the somber sanctity of the ruined city. Still, her words echoed off the stone, quickly multiplying and soon sounding as though there were hundreds of people asking if they were the only ones there. The woman shivered at the eerie effect, but quickly gasped as everything around her seemed to abruptly change.

No longer was she striding through the abandoned streets of a forgotten underground ruin. Now, the sun shone warmly down on bustling crowds. Vendors shaded underneath colorful canopies lined the edges of the streets, calling out specialties and sales over the cacophony of the crowd, trying to entice the many passersby to come and browse their wares. Crystal waters flowed through previously dry channels, and the roofs and shutters of magnificent buildings gleamed with bright paint in the afternoon sun. Brilliant tapestries fluttered in a pleasant sea wind, and the woman could hear the crying of seabirds.

Perhaps stranger than any of that was that an enormous number of the crowd wasn't human. Sure, there were a fair number of ordinary humans, but the majority were certainly not human. The woman gaped at the sight of a group of several large, cat-like creatures bounded past, chasing down a scruffier cat with a bag of stolen goods in tow. All of them had four legs. Other, equally strange, creatures strode about in colorful robes of flowing fabric. They were tall, and humanoid in shape, but with pricked ears like a cat's, and entirely furred faces. Their paws were unusual mixtures of human hands and cat-like paws with sharp nails, furred backs, and padded palms. Their feet were bare, but once again a strange mixture of cat and human, bearing animal-like joints, but with the ability to provide upright support. Cat tails flicked behind each creature, or out from underneath skirts. Many had gold earrings and bangles looped around their arms and even on their tails.

"Maybe I fell asleep and am dreaming," the woman murmured uneasily as she backed up in confusion.

She stared at another passing cat-human, and found her eyes drawn to the female's garb. It was light-weight and flowing, but surely it had to be warmer than nothing at all? In fact, she didn't see a single person not wearing clothes—even the four-legged guard-cat-creatures had armor—and she suddenly glanced down at her nude self somewhat self-consciously. None of the crowd seemed to have noticed her, so maybe it was okay?

Then a group of children raced straight through her, and she jumped a foot in the air.

"G-Ghosts?" the woman squeaked as the blood rushed from her face. She calmed some as she looked around again and shook her head slightly. "...Or maybe an illusion?"

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

The woman jumped again at the voice from right behind her. She spun around to see a tall, blond man with a beaming smile directed straight at her. He wore a simple tunic made of dark gray and black cloth, and an impressive sword with a gleaming golden hilt was slung across his back The corners of his clear sapphire eyes were crinkled with happiness and mischief, and the expression at once caused her heart to race and every muscle in her body to relax. She knew this man, somehow. He was a figure of safety.

The thought caused a shooting pain to stab behind her eyes, and she winced as she brought a hand to her head. Strangely, the action didn't cause the man to pause. If anything, his smile widened, and the woman jumped yet again as a different person bounded through her from behind to throw themselves into the man's arms. It was a young woman, dressed in a similar tunic to the man, with a short sword sheathed at her hip. She had short, black hair held off of her face by a thin, golden circlet.

A strange ache, stronger than her headache, formed in the woman's heart as she watched the man bend down to press a sweet kiss to the newcomer's lips. She turned away from the sight without quite knowing why their kiss bothered her so much, and found herself staring at a once again dark, desolate, and abandoned street. Gone were the crowds and stalls, the warm sunshine was once again blocked by the dark stone ceiling of the cavern, and the couple from the vision had vanished as well.

" _What is going on?_ " the woman wondered uneasily, afraid to speak out loud in case it summoned the vision back.

With a heavy swallow, she set out once more, carefully stepping over and around the stone chips and shards of ruined buildings while searching for any kind of life besides herself, or an exit. As she walked, she wondered if maybe the vision she'd seen was an image from the past. Had this city really once been above ground? Why had it sunk? Who had that man been? She was relatively sure she'd never before seen anything from the vision aside from him, but she couldn't even recall him well enough to be sure she really knew him. Even now, the only part of the man that she could clearly remember were his sapphire blue eyes. Yet looking at him had made her feel so safe and happy...

But what if—assuming the vision had, indeed, been a vision of the past—he was long dead? The dereliction of the buildings surrounding her couldn't have happened overnight, after all; the ruins had to have been as such for a very long time for all of the wooden shutters and stalls that she'd seen to be rotted completely away. But then, how had she gotten here, and how was she still alive? ...Or was she actually dead—merely a specter wandering the long-dead streets of her home in life?

The thought caused her to shiver again, and she found herself pressing one hand against the stone of the next building to be sure she wouldn't go through it. A thick coating of dust came off with her hand, but she thankfully didn't slip through the solid stone.

"Probably not dead, then," she nervously giggled to herself.

The giggle echoed just as earlier, and she found herself covering her ears to try and block the noise out, beyond creeped out by the sound of hundreds of giggles coming from all directions. After a few moments, she lowered her hands and was relieved to hear nothing once again and that she hadn't been pulled into a new vision.

Then she heard a distant howl echo through the streets, and her heart leapt into her throat. Soon, the sound of rapid footsteps coupled with scratching came echoing towards her, and she found herself twisting and running in what she thought might be the opposite way from the noise. Whatever had made that cry had definitely not been human, and she didn't think she wanted to meet it. Two more howls rose up, and her panting breaths caught in a sob of fear, and she ducked off of the street and into a nearby building to hide.

Ruined metal beams and shards of pottery and glass littered the floor inside, glittering in her magical light, and she picked her way carefully though the mess, heading for the half crumbled staircase behind a collapsed rusted gate on the far side of the room. Once she'd reached the stairs, she extinguished her light, and felt her way up the stone, and stumbled along the next floor with one hand on the wall to guide her until it met a corner. There, she huddled down with her heart pounding in her chest and listened to the muffled cries from outside.

In the next instant, she was blinded by bright light, and found herself trapped in another vision. With a whimper muffled by her hand, the woman stared out at a pristine room filled with carefully arranged chests and shelves while the walls were nearly covered in metal racks bearing weapons of all kinds from bows to swords, to staves. It was an armory room of some kind, she realized—or, at least, it had been, once. Two of the strange cat-people stood on either side of the stairwell she'd climbed with their backs to her and gleaming silvery spears in their hands. They wore armor made of the same silvery metal, but no helms, leaving their black furred heads exposed with their ears pricked upright. Light glinted off of their fur and armor, coming from a number of glowing crystals set in the ceiling.

The woman behind them managed to pull her eyes away in favor of examining the weapons in the room, again. Her hope was that maybe she'd spy something that might have survived well enough to be used. She glazed over the maces and mauls: their wooden handles would never have survived; the same was true for the bows, and she instinctively doubted that she could use a bow, anyway. Perhaps the swords, she mused, would be her best bet. Even a blunt, rusted stick would be better than her bare hands, but did she have the strength to properly swing one?

Then her eyes fell on a number of silvery staves leaning up against the wall in the far corner, and she had a feeling of déjà vu. Those were something she just might be able to use, and if they were made of metal, then maybe they would still be salvageable.

Then the vision faded, and she jerked in surprise as she found herself staring at pitch blackness. Everything was dead silent once more, and she vowed to keep it that way as she pushed herself off of the floor. No more noise out of her. Something was indeed alive down here with her, and they were not friendly. With that thought in mind, she flicked her wrist again and the ball of light reappeared, illuminating the ruined storeroom. To her surprise, a number of chests and shelves had survived the test of time, though in pathetic condition. Hinges had rusted off, and bugs had chewed holes through several of them. The shelves had crumbled into useless piles of splinters, and she could see the rusted, spiked heads of the maces she'd seen in the vision resting in the splinters.

With a shake of her head, she stepped forwards and began sifting through the piles of wood. Most pieces all but disintegrated as soon as she touched them, releasing the sickly sweet smell of rot, and she wrinkled her nose as she dug. After several minutes, she had managed to extract two broken short swords, the useless hilt of a broadsword, a rusted spear head, three left boots, and a pile of gleaming golden coins that had fallen out of a deteriorated leather satchel. The woman sighed and moved on to the next pile.

This one yielded slightly better rewards. She'd found an amulet that hummed with an unusual energy, and a rusted metal box that held a well-preserved dagger made of gleaming crystal. The hinges had protested moving with an ugly screech, and she'd frozen as her ears strained to hear if the noise had attracted unwanted attention. When all had remained silent, she withdrew the dagger and set it in the growing pile of potentially useful things, including the coins she'd found earlier, the amulet, and a fine chain belt made out of the same silvery material that the guards in her vision had worn.

The search took nearly two hours, due to the fact that she hadn't been able to sustain her light source without using her right hand until she'd nearly finished searching, but by the end, the woman was beaming. She'd found three silvery staves in nearly perfect condition under a moth-eaten tapestry that had fallen apart as soon as she'd pulled on it. Each one hummed in the same way the amulet had, and she realized they must be enchanted. How she knew that was beyond her, however, and she didn't want to think on it too much—her head always hurt when she tried to pull up anything useful from her memory.

Aside from the staves, crystal dagger, amulet, and coins, she'd come away with a healthy haul. Four enchanted bangles made of gold had been added to the pile, alongside a short sword made of the same metal as the staves—mythril, her brain suddenly informed her: the metal was mythril. She'd also found more gold, and some curious red crystals that were warm to the touch.

Finally, her greatest prize aside from the staves was a long robe-like garb, like those the cat-people in her vision of the market had worn. It was made out of a light, airy material that had been enchanted and seemed impervious to decay. It had been folded inside one of the last trunks she'd searched, complete with a sash made of the same material that had fluttered to the floor when she'd pulled the robe free.

The woman held up the robe with a critical eye. It was way too long for her, but was warmer than bare skin. The fabric had been dyed a rich blue, though the sash was golden colored, and it felt delightfully soft under her fingers. Now she simply needed some way to shorten it so that she wouldn't trip...

After a few moments of consideration, she knelt on the floor and spread the robe out. Then, she took her crystal dagger, eyeballed how short the clothing needed to be, and cut nearly a foot off of the bottom. It took a surprisingly large amount of effort to cut, despite its light and thin quality, but eventually she stood up with a triumphant smile, and pulled the robe up once more. Then came the challenge of fumbling with the multiple laces on the inside that held it shut. It took a few minutes of trying and redoing dressing, but she eventually figured out the strange design well enough that it wouldn't slip off, and double knotted the sash around her hips to keep it securely closed.

Now all that was left to consider was how to carry everything else. The answer, she mused thoughtfully, lay in the fairly large piece of fabric she'd shorn off the robe. And so she spent nearly a half an hour carefully poking small holes in the edge of half of the fabric she'd cut off and weaving the fine chain she had found through them. The end result was a crude drawstring bag large enough to carry her gold and the warmth crystals with plenty of room for anything else small that she happened to find. The ends of the chain were long enough to tie to her sash at her hip, and she did so with a proud smile.

" _Now then_ ," she thought as she turned a critical eye on the weapons. " _I can't carry all of these..._ "

In the end, she opted to leave two of the staves behind, and tucked the dagger and short sword into the sash at the opposite hip of her bag. At first, she'd feared the sword and dagger would cut the sash, but it turned out that to cut the fabric required more force and sawing than she was applying, and she wondered if maybe that was on purpose. The material was certainly stronger than anything so light and thin had any right of being. That gave her a brilliant idea.

Soon, she'd tied two strips of the fabric around each of her feet to protect them from debris and glass shards, like were downstairs. Her toes stuck out, but her heels and arches were well protected. It was warmer than walking on the bare, cold stone, too.

" _Just this tiny strip left_ ," the woman mused as she brushed a few errant strands of hair out of her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time since waking up. With a grin, she used the final strip to tie her hair back from her face. " _Who knew one scrap fabric could be so useful?_ "

Feeling a lot more prepared and confident, she gripped her chosen staff in hand and set off back down the stairs. Already, her mind whirled with confusing images of fire and ice leaping before her, all under her command, and she decided that perhaps she was a spell caster. It made sense, given her ball of light and recognition of staves.

The streets were as empty as before, but this time, there were claw marks on the frames of several of the doors that she was relatively sure hadn't been there before. With a swallow and a prayer that she wouldn't get caught up in another vision at an inconvenient time, the woman set off down the street. She would reach the end of the city, then circle around the edge. There had to be an exit somewhere, after all.

She hadn't gone more than three alleys when a shape lunged at her from a second story window.

The woman barely withheld the instinctive shriek that rose in her throat, and she swung her new staff like a club. _Wrong_ , her mind scolded before she even connected, and even though her attacker had been knocked to the side and into a doorway before she could even really see what it had been. A few sparkles had briefly glittered in the air. Magic, she dryly reminded herself, wasn't about brute strength: it was about wit and willpower, and eliminating her foes. The irony of belatedly knowing more than she could readily recall, and of being her own teacher weren't lost on her.

Those thoughts soon fled from her head as her attacker came back out with a rattling growl that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She found herself staring at a walking skeleton. Several rib bones were missing from its chest, and it's lower jaw was gone entirely. Sharp fangs still hung from the upper jaw, but were scorched black, and empty sockets seemed to glare at her. Though she didn't know it, the light magic sent off by her smacking the skeleton had knocked its jaw clear off.

"Oh, boy," the mage mumbled.

She ducked to the side to dodge the skeleton as it lunged at her with a howl—the same one she'd heard earlier. It landed on all fours, twisted nimbly around, and lunged back at her with bony fingers and claws outstretched. The mage pointed her staff at the skeleton, but all that happened was a few useless sparkles glimmered from the tip. The sparkles caused a few blackened marks to appear on the skeleton's skull, and while it let out a pained shriek and jerked aside, it didn't stop it. If anything, the undead seemed to grow more furious, and it leapt again.

This time, the mage dove to the floor under the attack, rolled onto her back, and brought the staff up and around across the skeleton's midsection. Whether the staff was an effective blunt weapon or not, smacking the skeleton had worked earlier, and if the glimmers of light were any indication, then it could cause damage. And sure enough, the head of the staff smashed straight through the undead's spine, disintegrating the vertebrae, and causing it to land in two pieces. The top half kept moving, clawing itself around to try and attack her once more, but the bottom half entirely broke apart into a pile of inanimate bones.

The mage pushed herself to her feet, and brought her staff down on the skeleton's skull, destroying it and whatever evil force kept the bones moving. Silence fell, apart from her panting breaths, and she stared down at the pile of bones. She'd killed it, with a healthy dose of luck and chance, but it had been tenacious, and she was certain that she had heard more than one cry, earlier. If there were many shambling undead wandering the city, then she needed to leave now. Knowing she _could_ cast spells clearly wasn't enough to _actually_ cast them, and she didn't want to sit around to try and figure it out in a place where the dead walked and sought for her to join them.

In fact, she realized that the fight had caused a lot of noise, and she needed to move before others came to investigate. With that thought in mind, she set off at a jog down the alley, this time carefully and watching listening for more attackers. The silence of the city was oppressive, and the shadows seemed to be filled with moving shapes. It didn't take long before the palm gripping her staff had become slick with sweat from tension and nerves, and she shifted the staff to her other hand to wipe the sweat off on her thigh.

It seemed like an eternity of empty, twisting alleys before she finally came across something different. A large empty space—the town square, she mused—stretched out before her. A half-melted statue sat in the center, surrounded by ruined garden boxes.

After a cautious scan of the area and attaching alleys, the mage stepped into the open to curiously examine the statue. It was difficult to be certain what the subject had once been, but she thought that perhaps it had been of a cat, what with the one claw and the long shape that might have been a tail. It made sense, given what her visions had shown her of the city's inhabitants.

She reached out to touch the smoothed edge of the melted stone, and wondered how it had been melted. It had to have been an intentional destruction, because nothing else in the area had been melted. Perhaps it had been a symbolic show of dominance from an invading force? That would line up with the overall state of ruin that most of the buildings were in.

Suddenly, everything was on fire. The colorful roofs she had marveled at in an earlier vision had become great torches, bodies littered the streets of cats, cat-people, and humans, and she could hear the distant sounds of battle. Before her stood the statue, untouched and impressive. It depicted a muscular man holding a spear with a large cat standing at his side, fangs bared menacingly. It was, frankly, a rather terrifying sculpture, but it had a number of bouquets placed at its base, so she figured it was fairly well-liked by the inhabitants.

Not that any of the said inhabitants were there now. The woman looked up as a distant explosion illuminated the plumes of smoke billowing above the besieged city. A battalion of cats wearing full armor and wielding floating swords and shields came pouring into the square alongside humans with regular armaments. On the opposite side, cat-people formed a ragged defense of the largest street, down which she could see an impressive domed structure. The street had been where she'd come from, and she wondered if perhaps the temple—for it could be nothing else—had been where she'd woken up.

The cat-people looked exhausted and battered, and were greatly outnumbered, but they stood their ground with grim defiance. Growls and hisses rumbled in the air before exploding into yowls and screeches. Natalie covered her mouth with wide eyes, unable to look away as she watched the cats and humans brutally slaughter the defenders. They had all been living alongside each other, so what had happened to cause this massacre?

She didn't get long to wonder before a black shape came exploding into the fray. A pure black cat with red eyes and pulsing with power in a red aura had descended into the fray as the last cat-people desperately fended for their lives. The entire battle froze, and Natalie saw a collective shiver run through the crowd. The new cat was smaller than all the rest, and was built like a four legged cat, but stood on its hind legs. Its tail lashed as it let out a hair-raising yowl. Abruptly, all the attackers collapsed, and the woman was shocked to realize that they had died in an instant due to whatever the black cat had done. Only three battered cat people remained standing, and all of them sank into low bows with purred praises in their strange meowing tongue.

" _A god-cat?_ " she wondered in awe.

There was nothing else the creature could be. No mere mortal could simply cast an entire army into death. She watched the god raise one paw at the statue and allow black flames to melt it into the unrecognizable pile of slag it was now. The final image she saw was of a glimpse of a gleaming golden shape come soaring over the square to unleash a storm of fire on a cluster of buildings with a thundering roar that was answered by a second roar. Then the flames, the worshippers, the god, and the dragons vanished, and everything returned to the dark gloom of reality.

With a shake of her head, the woman cast an uneasy glance at the melted statue, suddenly wondering if the city had been cursed by the god. How else could a formerly prosperous city on the coast be cast into the earth to be haunted by the dead? She hoped the god was not lurking about now to curse her to join the city.

A now-familiar screech sounded from behind the mage, and she whipped around with a gasp. Three skeletons were bounding towards her, their cries echoing about the city and being answered by skeletons in different areas. The woman swallowed against the tight knot of fear in her throat, and berated herself for getting distracted by a stupid statue when she should have been practicing her magic.

Well it was too late now, and the skeletons were upon her. She slammed one across the side of the skull with her staff, knocking it clean off of the bony shoulders and causing the skeleton to collapse. The magic sustaining them must be centered in their heads, she realized as she ducked under a set of claws coming at her face. A few strands of hair were ripped out, and she hissed as she tugged her dagger free from her waist with her left hand and clumsily drove it up into the attacker's jaw. A split second later, and she let go of the dagger with a cry of surprise as silver flames engulfed the undead and burned it to ash with a high shriek of dismay.

A heavy shape slammed into the stunned mage, yanking her out of her shock, and she let out a cry of pain as chipped fangs dug into her forearm. A second later, and a different pain flared from her ankle, and she jerked her eyes down to see the skull she'd smacked off earlier had rolled back into the fray to bite at her unprotected leg. With gritted teeth, she ripped her arm free, splattering a few drops of blood across the stone ground. At the same time, she jerked her leg up and away from the skull in the ground, and while that sent her tumbling from a loss of balance, it also sent the skull flying.

The woman rolled a short distance away and came up in a crouch to draw the short sword, having abandoned the staff in favor of dodging. Just firming the dusty hilt in her grip told her that she had no experience, current or forgotten, in wielding blades. Luckily, her foes were few and stupid enough that a clumsy slash and a stab were enough to shear through their brittle bones. Two cracked and bloody skulls fell still on the stone ground, their magic broken.

With the battle won, the woman swiftly gathered up her dropped weapons, tucked them away, and took off down the opposite street she'd come from. No more touching anything, no more questioning about the city. She wanted out of the ruins and to a place not filled with undead. Blood ran down her arm from where she'd been bitten, staining the shaft of her staff, and every step left a single bloody footprint from her wounded leg. Luckily, adrenaline still pumped through her veins, and she felt next to no pain from the injuries, though she knew she would have to see to them pretty soon.

Behind her, the echoing shrieks of more skeletons now filled the air, telling her they knew there was an intruder lurking about for them to find. Perhaps more alarming was that she was also hearing a rumbling so low it felt more like a tremor through the ground. She could only hope whatever was making that sound was not something she would have to face down. There was no way she was ready to fight something large and dangerous; she counted it to be a miracle that she'd made it this far without getting killed.

She had no idea how much time had passed before she slowed to a panting stop at a large wall. The bite mark on her arm had clotted some time back, though the one in her leg still steadily oozed blood, and she saw a splotchy red trail down the street leading straight to where she stood. For a moment, she fearfully wondered if the undead were intelligent enough to follow the trail of blood she'd left, but she quickly pushed that thought aside. They were faster than her by far, which meant that if they'd been following the blood, then they would have caught up to her already.

With that hopeful—if somewhat baseless—conclusion, she turned her eyes back to the wall. It was enormous, reaching several lengths above her head, but large sections had collapsed into mounds of rubble. Whether the destruction was from the battle she'd seen in her most recent vision, from the city being sunk into the ground, or from natural decay over time, she didn't know, but it offered her a way to climb out.

And so she forced her tired legs to move and began the slow, careful clamber up the chunks of stone. It was dangerous work since the edges were often sharp, and the stones unsteady. More than once, she'd had to make a desperate scramble as her footing crumbled out from under her. At one point, her handhold had broken and she'd fallen a few feet, resulting in a large bruise on her lower back and right thigh.

By the end of the climb, she was exhausted, sweaty, her fingertips were bloody, and her entire body was sore. She took a few moments to simply lie on her back, staring up at the dark stone ceiling. The cries of the skeletons had faded into silence, and the ominous rumbling had vanished. Despite that, she felt even more uneasy. Her muscles remained tensed for combat, even reclined as she was, her heart thudded with anticipation, and she found herself listening more intently than ever—so intently that, for a few moments, she thought her heartbeat were thudding footsteps.

" _I need to get out of here,_ " she thought as she finally worked her breathing under control and stood up. " _Something is coming, and I don't want to meet it—not if I can avoid it._ "

Unfortunately for her, the chance to escape had already passed. With an earsplitting crash, made all the louder for the silence, and a rumbling growl so strong and close she felt it in her bones, the stone beneath her feet crumbled into nothing, sending her free falling to land and tumble down a staircase hidden in the wall. The woman cried out in shock and pain as she rolled down the steps before hitting a smoothed portion that slid her back to ground level. She tumbled to a dazed and groaning halt back on ground level and over twenty yards further along the wall.

Something hot was sliding across her face, and it took touching her forehead with trembling fingers to realize it was blood. Somewhere during the tumble, she'd scored a shallow scrape above her right eye.

"That's not good," she mumbled thickly as she sat up and summoned her light back.

The shimmering ball flickered uncertainly for a few moments before stabilizing, and she almost wished she'd left it out. The cave seemed to rock and swim in her vision, making her feel queasy enough to squeeze her eyes shut and swallow against the bile that rose in her throat. An abrupt screeching had her eyes snapping back open in time to see a massive skeleton come crawling over a building.

The beast was easily as tall as the wall behind her. Its skull was long and reptilian with yellowed fangs as long as her arm, and empty eye sockets that glowed with an unholy crimsom light, bathing the stone before it a bloody red. It crawled along on all fours, causing its claws, ribs, and the vertebrae in the tail to scrape along the ground with a hair-raising sound. Two boney appendages jutted out from its shoulders flicking open and closed like enormous finger-bones, and she realized they must've been wings at one point; the creature was an undead dragon—a dracolich.

The woman's stomach knotted in despair as her eyes darted every which way, trying to spy an escape. Adrenalin had washed away her former pain and dizziness and caused everything to snap into sharp and clear focus, and she spotted a half collapsed archway in the wall: the gate to the city, and perhaps her only hope... if she could reach it.

But the dracolich was too close now to try sprinting for safety. Even with its slow, clumsy gait, it covered more ground in one step than she could do in five while running. Destroying it seemed unlikely—she couldn't even fight three much smaller skeletons without getting bitten twice. And then the skeleton spoke, and she leapt a foot in the air in shock.

" _Goldwyrm, you return at last... No... You are not Goldwyrm, though you bear the foul worm's blood_."

Its voice was rattling and echoing, overlaid with an ancient hiss and immense fury. The glowing sockets seemed to flare brighter as it glared at her, and she felt her mouth go dry. Who or what was Goldwyrm, and what did the dracolich mean she bore their blood? For that matter, how was she understanding it speak? Its words certainly rang as unfamiliar, yet she had no trouble knowing what it was saying.

She licked her dry lips to wet them before asking in a quiet whisper, "Who are you?"

An angry hissing roar filled the air, causing her to flinch back, but the dracolich answered in a growl. " _Once, I was the greatest dragon to fly the skies of a glorious kingdom. All cowered before my might and rage! Gleaming crimson were my scales, and far did my territory range! Now I crawl here, a worm in a city of rotten bones, caged to endless stone_."

The dracolich had turned its head to contemplate the ruins it haunted, and the woman seized the opportunity to begin silently inching for the archway. Every step closer before she had to run mattered, which meant she needed to keep the dracolich distracted.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, unable to control a faint tremble in her voice.

An eerie clattering filled the air as the dracolich's bones rattled with fury. " _Long enough to rot to the form you see now. One century? Two? Ten, perhaps? There is no sun here, no stars, no sky to turn in immortal count_."

She had made it to the cover of some rubble, and ducked behind it, thinking rapidly. She was still too far to safely run, and had no clue if the archway even led to freedom. Her heart pounded with fear as she rapidly weighed her options. The dracolich was still distracted reminiscing, perhaps indulging in the first speech since it had become trapped here. A part of her felt guilty to be using its loneliness against it, but then she remembered the rage in it when it had first greeted her. Whoever Goldwyrm was, they had angered something so powerful it could continue to linger beyond death.

Suddenly, an angry roar filled the air, and she realized the dracolich had discovered her vanishing. Time was running out for her to make her move, and she still had no idea what to do. There was another several yards to her goal, and no cover between where she was hidden and the archway. A distraction, she desperately mused, was what she needed. But all she had at her disposal was a dagger not even half the length of one claw, a short sword she had no idea how to use, a staff she could only swing about like a club, and a useless ball of glowing light.

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. Perhaps her light was the answer. If she could cause it to form in the shadows opposite of where she was hidden, then maybe she could sprint for safety while the dracolich was distracted. Of course, she had yet to even attempt summoning her light any further than a foot from her body, but there was no time like the present to learn. She hoped, anyway.

With a deep breath to try and calm her nerves, she cautiously peered around her cover to see the dracolich nosing through some rubble a yard or two away. It was closer than she'd thought, which made her heart skip a beat in fear. Then she pushed the danger as far from her mind as she could, directed her eyes to the edge of the ruined city, and focused.

For a few seconds, nothing seemed to happen. Then, a tiny flicker of light appeared, winking uncertainly in gloom, too dim to really be noticed. She focused harder, a trickle of sweat running down the nape of her neck. A brilliant flash happened before a column of light erupted from where she was looking, and she toppled back in surprise, eyes watering. The ploy worked, and the dragon whipped around with a triumphant screech. At nearly the same moment, the woman slipped out from cover to dart into the open, half-blind. She judged that she was nearly halfway there when the dracolich caught on.

" _You dare attempt such pathetic trickery?_ " the dracolich bellowed. " _Stand and fight as your blood demands! I shall have my revenge on Goldwyrm, one way, or another!_ "

"I don't know any Goldwyrm!" the woman cried as she ran. "Whatever they did to you, I had no part in it!"

" _He struck me down, but refused to deliver the finishing blow! Instead he left me in the burning rubble, left me to be entombed in the earth! By his design or the gods', I have remained here, but no longer! With his blood, I shall be free!_ "

Well, that explained something, then: it needed her dead to break some kind of curse. Unfortunately, she had no intentions of dying here over some ancient feud. A chill along her spine had her diving to the floor, just in time to dodge emerald flames that shot past her head. Heat washed over her back and scorched the open wound on her leg, and she gritted her teeth as she continued scrambling half bent over. A claw swiped just short of where she'd been, gouging into the stone and sending chips flying into her calves.

" _Almost there,_ " she thought desperately.

An immense force slammed against her back, sending her hurtling through the air to tumble across the ground. A tingle swept through her body as a furious howl shook the ground. Green light illuminated the darkness as the dracolich unleashed another burst of eerie flames that slammed into some invisible barrier and spread over it. Not stopping to wonder _what_ or _why_ , the woman continued fleeing into a narrow passageway, echoes of roars chasing her. Scattered bones were crushed beneath her feet, thankfully not moving, and she didn't stop running until she could no longer hear the dracolich's roars.

Gasping for air, she slumped against a damp wall and sank to sit. Her scalded and bruised back protested the movement and rubbing, but she was too tired to do much more than wince. Lucky, she thought with a hysteric giggle, she had been way too lucky. The giggle soon shifted to stressed tears, and she simply sat there silently crying as the adrenalin flushed out of her system, leaving her shaky, tired, and in pain.

But she couldn't stay there forever. She needed to treat her wounds, find the surface, and maybe begin searching for answers as to why she'd woken up in an undead city. With a trembling grip on her staff, she pushed herself off the ground, summoned a new light—dimmer than before—and began walking.

An eternity seemed to pass there in the dark. She walked, but felt as though she was going nowhere. Eventually, she caved and curled up against a strangely warm wall for a brief nap, unaware of the lava tube running past several feet of stone. When she woke, her stomach growled at her, but she ignored it in favor of stumbling on. Her leg had healed during her sleep, as had the burns across her back, and she counted that as her latest blessing.

Finally, after an unknown amount of time had passed, she saw something new as she squeezed past a crack where a wall had crumbled. Suddenly, she was in a created hallway, lined with stone shelves, and smelling of the sickly sweet combination of musty herbs and rot. A crypt, her brain supplied, and she snorted.

"Of course it's a damned crypt," she muttered to herself as she crept forwards, casting a wary eye about. "And knowing my recent experiences, it'll be full of dead things trying to kill me."

But nothing moved as she wandered past embalming tables, deteriorating benches for worship, derelict coffins, carved epitaphs, creepy painted masks depicting the faces of the dead as they'd been in life, and dried offerings. It was only after she passed the same decorated urn for the fifth time that she realized she'd been wandering in a circle. With an aggravated growl, she deliberately turned down a new path that she'd been avoiding, lined with desiccated corpses wreathed in cobwebs that grinned at her with toothy death-smiles.

Finally, she found herself facing a set of heavy double doors barred from the inside. A pile of bones rested beneath it, and she realized with a chill that it had likely been a person who'd shut themselves in the tomb; she didn't think she wanted to know why.

With a shiver, she stepped over the skeleton, half expecting it to grab her, and lifted the heavy bar to set it aside. An ear-piercing screech filled the air as ancient hinges protested being moved, and dust rained down on her, and she was suddenly blinded by brilliant, warm sunlight. The woman coughed against the dirt she'd accidentally inhaled, and stepped triumphantly into the light with an overwhelming feeling of relief. A few seconds later, and her eyes slid shut, and slumped to the ground.

An entire day passed with her sleeping there, and it was just after dawn the next day that a murmur of voices woke her. She groaned and squinted against the morning light to see a trio of blurry faces peering down at her. For a moment, her heart soared without reason, before her vision cleared and she realized she didn't know these people.

The moment she moved, the three screamed and bolted, jabbering something she couldn't understand, and she jolted upright, expecting an attack. Instead, she was greeted with an empty graveyard and the sight of three people fleeing on horseback. The remains of a campsite sat just inside the graveyard gate, and she curiously pushed herself to stand. The tents had likely belonged to the three who'd awoken her, but she doubted they would be back. And since they were gone, maybe she could find some food among their things.

Twenty minutes later, and she was relaxing against a cracked monolith, chewing slowly on a piece of dried meat, having found several rations in the tents. She almost felt guilty for stealing, but decided that they had horses, and were more able to get more supplies than she was. And so she had helped herself to all their non-perishables, a loose blanket, a canteen half full of water, and a traveling cloak that was far warmer than just her robes. A second blanket made a decent knapsack for her supplies, and she figured she was as ready for travel as she could be. Now, she thought as she idly studied a gold leafed emblem on a crypt door, she just needed a direction.

**OOOOOO**

Lance rolled his eyes impatiently as Anna got the three spooked men settled by the fire in an effort to get their story out of them. By how they were armed, he assumed they must be bandits or corpse looters, but something had apparently scared them enough to flee without gathering any of their traveling equipment. If he had to venture a guess, they had run afoul of some demon or hybrid, and he wished they would just spill so the pair could get on with their usual tasks.

"So, what happened?" Anna asked kindly as she ladled some warm stew into chipped bowls.

"We- We was travelin' back from a worksite, and ended up campin' by that old graveyard in the foothills. Nothin' happened all night that we saw or heard, but come mornin'..."

" _Vampire, maybe?_ " Lance mused in an effort to resist snapping at their poor grammar. " _No, a vampire wouldn't be out during the day..._ "

"There were a woman there, sleepin' in the grass. We thought she were a fresh corpse, but she woke, and her eyes..." the man's voice broke off into a shudder. "They weren't no human's eyes."

"What did they look like?" Anna pressed when the man remained silent for too long.

"Silver; very beautiful, but slitted like a cat's or a snake's," the man recalled. "Her hair were like fire: orange and littered with ash. She looked for all the world to be a human, but she ain't. There ain't no woman that perfect, even countin' for her eyes."

"Certainly not that would appear before idiots like these," Lance muttered under his breath. He stood straight and cast a glance at Anna, who was grinning at him for the remark. "So, what do you think it is?"

Anna shrugged uncertainly, "A succubus, maybe? Or perhaps just a glamour—a poor one, if it didn't change its eyes. Did the creature do anything to you?"

All three men shook their heads. "Nay, simply blinked at us. We ran before it could do anything."

"That was probably for the best," Anna sighed as she stood up. "We'll give you three canteens of water, some jerky, and a few blankets. That should last you to the next town, provided you don't take any detours."

Lance sighed at the generous donation, but said nothing until he and Anna were out of earshot. "You know they're just vultures."

"Maybe so, but they're still human. Besides, we needed to pass off those blankets, anyway—they were getting threadbare."

Lance's mouth curled in a half-smirk. "And here I thought you were being nice. For shame, Anna, giving them trash."

Anna shoved him with a laugh before turning her eyes to the trail ahead of them. Her faint smile widened at the low chuckle Lance gave, and she shot him a challenging look over her shoulder before taking off.

"Last one to the cemetery has to make dinner!"

"Cheater!"

A few hours later saw them stopping for the night, breathless and laughing. Anna flopped to sit on the ground beside the road, and watched lazily as Lance moved about to gather branches for a fire. Soon, a cheery blaze was burning and some flatbreads were baking in a metal box Lance had fashioned for baking on the road. With a timer set, and leftover venison that hadn't been used in their earlier stew charring on skewers over the flames, he settled down beside Anna and smiled as she leaned against his shoulder.

"Love you," she murmured sweetly.

"Love you, too," Lance replied along with a kiss to the crown of her head before laughing. "...Even if you always cheat at our races."

Anna barely suppressed a grin as she pulled away in mock-offense. "I don't recall anyone specifying a starting line!"

"Mm, yes, that always seems to be something you overlook,"

"I don't think I like your tone, mister," Anna scolded, unable to keep her grin contained.

Lance leaned closer, and his voice fell to a low purr that sent delightful shivers up and down her spine, "Then maybe you should quit being a twit."

"I will never understand how you always manage make something as childish and insulting as _twit_ sound so alluring," Anna whispered breathlessly as she leaned up to steal a quick kiss.

"It's a gift," Lance chuckled against her lips before he pulled away to nudge their bread out of the fire. He shot her a heated look at her huff and added, "And it helps that it's you I'm talking to."

"Flatterer," Anna snorted, though her cheeks flushed.

Dinner was a hurried affair, eager as they were for things that came after. And then Lance languidly reminded Anna of all the other things he had a 'gift' for, drawing moans, and gasps, and pleas from her throat until she grew impatient enough to flip them around and take what she wanted.

"You're always so impatient," Lance grunted as he thrust up with his hips.

"And you're always so slow," Anna shot back with a lopsided smile. She rolled her hips before canting faster, and panted, "Besides, I'm sure you can agree some things are better fast."

Lance's teeth flashed in the dim light from the fire as he rolled them onto their sides to more effectively hammer into his lover. It didn't take long from there for both of them to finish, and they slumped still, moaning and panting quietly. Anna scooted closer when Lance's arm wrapped around her, just under her breasts, and she leaned back against him with a long sigh.

"Awesome again," Lance breathed into her hair. "You'd think it'd lose its charm after a few hundred years, but no."

"Mm, I hope sex never loses its charm," Anna mumbled sleepily. "Next time, though, let's find a bed first. Camping sex has its perks, but I miss the sheets."

Lance's arm briefly lifted away from her to grope around for his adventure pouch to retrieve a large blanket, which he pulled over their cooling bodies. A brief shuffle later saw Anna's head pillowed on Lance's arm with her own arm across his chest, and the gunner's jacket under his head for a pillow.

They lay in drowsy silence before Lance mumbled, "So we're going to see Matt after we wrap this demon up, right?"

" _Mmhmm_ ," Anna agreed in a murmur. "Here's hoping he doesn't... try to...eat us... again..."

Lance snorted quietly and shut his eyes as sleep finally consumed him.

The next day saw their former race forgotten as they kept to a leisurely hike through the thinning trees. Both their faces still showed the glow of a morning after, though their conversation was serious as they discussed how to handle their foe. Anna was convinced that whatever it was couldn't be that dangerous if it had let three mostly unaware men escape it unharmed, though Lance was skeptical of that argument. It was possible, he'd pointed out, that whatever creature they'd disturbed was actually nocturnal, and disinclined to attack during the day. Eventually, both decided they'd have to do some preliminary scouting before engaging.

"Oh..." Anna breathed as the derelict gate of the cemetery came into view. "...I didn't realize we were so close to..."

Lance nodded somberly, eyes scanning the twin stone monuments of winged cats flanking the enchanted iron entrance marking the only way through high stone walls. The statues were carved from marble, but had cracked and worn with age and exposure, and hanging moss grew in clumps from the wings and tails. Still, there was no mistaking them as anything but the ceremonial guards to the graveyard where they'd had a monument erected to honor Natalie. Her ashes weren't buried in her family's cemetery, but it had seemed wrong to not have something to show her place among her passed kin, even if she hadn't liked them.

"...You okay?" Anna asked quietly, having watched Lance's expression shadow with memory and guilt.

There would always be guilt when he remembered Natalie and how he'd failed to save her—deserved or not. In fact, it had taken years before Anna had reached any kind of level of stability from the gunner. Years of sticking to him like glue, years comforting, and years of trying to keep him smiling and eventually happy. Even now, he sometimes woke from nightmares of the fight and how powerless and desperate he'd been, and she knew he still somewhat blamed himself for the turn Matt had taken to embracing a dragon's solitude.

Lance finally shook himself and nodded, "I'll be fine. Come on, I don't want to linger here."

And so they stepped inside the enclosure, and immediately spotted the campsite the three men had spoken of. It was clear that someone or something had already picked through it. Blankets were missing from the tents, and the only food to be found was a half stale chunk of bread—strangely, several staple items were also missing, like many of the utensils, though the pans had been left behind.

"Imp?" Lance suggested as they examined the site.

Anna shook her head and pointed to a print in the ash near the fire. "No, something humanoid—a woman, and probably our otherworldly beauty. But the size and width... she's wearing some kind of cloth wrap instead of proper footwear."

"Not a glamour, then, if she's leaving physical tracks, and she can't be some kind of ghost or wraith," Lance surmised as he knelt to also inspect the mark. "I don't see any sign of claws on the feet, either, so she isn't a lesser beast, and vampires are too vain to not wear shoes, so what could she be?"

"A halfbreed?" Anna wondered as she stood straight and scanned the campsite again. "That would explain the missing blankets and food with no sign of rodents scavenging; might explain why she had no interest in attacking the men, too. Maybe she's made her home here and they simply startled her."

Lance shrugged as he stood as well. "Maybe. See if you can find any other tracks around here; maybe we can track her. Don't attack unless she's aggressive."

Anna nodded and began rapidly quartering the ground, eyes darting about for signs of passing. The trail was fairly easy to find and follow in the soft earth, and they traced it backwards to find where the men has awoken the woman. They studied the open crypt with a frown, eyeing the way the bar had been on the inside and lack of evidence of forcing before deciding there must have been a second entrance. Anna led the way forwards once more, trailing around the cemetery to various crypts that had been opened and looted of anything valuable.

"A grave robber," Anna sighed as they neared the last building. "Well, I suppose it's all just going to waste here, but still..." She suddenly froze and raised one hand to halt Lance, her head cocked. "Well, well, I think our robber is still inside. The trail doesn't lead away again, either."

Lance nodded and readied his gunblade, now edged with pure silver. He stole to one side of the door and waited there as Anna circled the building to be sure there were no other exits. Then, on a silent count, they forced the door open, weapons raised threateningly.

A loud clattering filled the air alongside a surprised scream, and gold, jewels, and cutlery spilled across the ground. A slender figure had spun to face them, clutching an adamantine staff in her clawed hands with a clumsy grip. Her face was hidden by the hood of the cloak she wore, but her bangs were clearly a fiery orange, and her eyes reflected the light in an unnatural way.

"Put the weapon down and we won't hurt you," Lance ordered sharply. When the woman refused to comply, he raised his weapon slightly, "I'm warning you: last chance."

Instead of putting her weapon down, the woman flicked her hand and a ball of glowing light shot forwards. Lance arched a brow at the illumination spell and let it harmlessly hit his chest where it glowed. The attack, if he even deigned to call it as such, was pathetic, even as a distraction, and he easily snagged the woman when she tried to run past. He caught her wrists and held her firm as Anna moved forwards to pull her hood back.

And time seemed to freeze as an achingly familiar face glared at them—familiar even after so long. It was Natalie, right down to the freckles on her nose. Everything was exactly as they recalled, apart from her eyes, which were now a strange silvery-gray instead of the sea green they'd been before. It was clear she didn't recognize them as she fought wildly to escape with panic fueled strength. Any doubts they might have had of whether it was really her or not vanished when she spoke in a long-dead language.

"Let me go! I didn't escape a dracolich and his horde of undead cats just to get caught and killed by a pair of bandits!"

"N-Natalie?!" Anna gasped, releasing the mage, who immediately broke free of Lance's slack grip to cower in the corner.

Natalie's face showed some hesitant confusion at the sound of her name, but her eyes were mistrustful. "Who are you?"

"Gods, how the hell are you alive? Where have you been? Oh, just wait until Matt knows!"

Lance had moved past his initial shock and was now studying Natalie's baffled expression. He waved a hand to calm Anna down and murmured, "She doesn't understand you. If this is really Natalie returned from the dead, then she doesn't know the current dialects." He raised his voice and said, "Natalie, it's us: Lance and Anna. Do you remember?" His words were slow as he attempted to remember the the language and sentence structure of his birth.

Natalie relaxed somewhat at his words and shook her head ever so slightly. "No, not really, but I don't remember much of anything. You seem... really familiar, though." She hesitated, eyes darting between them. "You called me... Natalie. How do you know me? Or, maybe, how do I know you?"

Anna's expression sobered, and she exchanged an uncertain look with Lance. "Why don't we go outside? We can talk over some food."

Natalie's gaze darted between the pair, unsure whether she could trust them or not. Ultimately, the relief pumping through her veins convinced her to slowly nod. She definitely knew them on some level, and they hadn't actually hurt her beyond scaring the life from her when they'd burst in. Lance stepped back and to the side to let her go first, and her gaze darted to the floor where all the beautiful gems and gold she'd found were scattered.

Anna laughed softly. "You can gather your spoils. Not sure what's turned you to grave robbing, but it's technically all yours, in a way."

Natalie's eyes lightened and she crouched to begin pulling her gold back into a pile on her stolen blanket. When Lance bent to help, however, she let out an instinctive hiss at him, and he jerked back in surprise before realization filled his expression. Natalie looked mortified at the noise she'd let out and mumbled an apology, but Lance's mouth was twitching with amusement, not disapproval. He shook his head at Anna's confused glance and shot her a meaningful look that said he would explain later.

Eventually, they all exited the crypt with a sizable bundle of valuables clutched in Natalie's arms. Anna's brows rose at the sight of a dagger and a short sword at Natalie's waist, and she realized the mage's entire outfit was strange. The robe she wore was sloppily cut short and stained with soot and blood, though clearly of fine make, and her feet were wrapped in strips of cloth rather than shoes or boots. A makeshift pouch was tied at her waist, and bulging with several items.

"Where'd you get the robe and weapons?" Anna finally asked when they were seated at the abandoned campsite.

Natalie shrugged with a glance down at herself. "I found them in a ruined city. It was better than nothing, and I wasn't sure what I knew, but after some trial and error, I think I've discovered I have no idea what to do with a sword." Her eyes were distant as she murmured, "I must be a mage, I think. I can see fire leaping, and lighting, and ice, but I can't figure out how to use them. It's been... frustrating. And scary."

Lance spoke up from where his eyes were fixed on stoking the fire. "You're definitely a mage, and we can help you get back to where you were, but you can't fear that power. Fearing it was what- It can get you hurt." He sat back now that the fire was burning strong and turned his eyes on Natalie's strange silver ones. "Now, what happened? The last time we saw you was a long, long time ago, and we thought you were gone. Tell us everything you know and remember."

And for the next hour and a half, Natalie recalled everything that had happened to her: where she'd awoken, what she could remember of the strange visions, her lucky but successful flight from the undead and a dracolich. She laid out everything that she had deduced about herself from the fleeting moments of recollection and déjà vu, occasionally stopping as she abruptly remembered extra things here and there as she spoke. The more she talked, the more comfortable she became, sinking into a feeling of familiarity with Lance and Anna that felt _right_ , like she had found something she hadn't even realized was missing until she had it again. And unbeknownst to her, the more she remembered here and there, the more flecks of ocean blue would appear in her eyes.

When she finished, the sun was well past its height, and Lance and Anna were stunned. The pair's eyes met in unspoken agreement as the truth washed over them. Natalie shifted somewhat uncomfortably as the silence stretched on for too long.

"So, um, do you have any idea what happened to me?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Anna's lips pursed, but she nodded. "This is going to sound like crazy talk to you, but-"

"I think an entire necropolis guarded by a raging dracolich is crazy talk, but it definitely exists," Natalie interrupted mildly with a wry smile.

The ranger laughed and nodded in agreement before leaning forwards earnestly. "Not too long before we last spoke, we—us three and another—swore a pact to Godcat. We serve as her guardians in exchange for extra strength, magic, vitality, and life. In addition to that, there are unique circumstances for certain kinds of... deaths."

Natalie nodded in understanding, her brow furrowed as her brain scrambled to absorb and retrieve the information. Her eyes turned to Lance's when he picked up where Anna left off.

"You died restoring one of Godcat's major fonts to proper order," he bluntly informed Natalie. His eyes were fixed on a point past Natalie's shoulder, and were dark with remembrance. "It was a... really messy affair. You had been horribly off balance from prior circumstances, all of us were handling everything very poorly, and we had run out of the options we thought we had. The end result was that our team was splintered: you had sacrificed yourself to seal a rift to a violent dimension, and Matt was devastated."

Natalie's face had gone white, but her eyes were stormy with rapid thought. She had died? Her brain hurt from absorbing so much information, but it seemed to agree with the news. But if she had died, then how was she here now? And who was Matt? Just hearing his name sent a mixed pang or longing and guilt through her, and she wondered what he'd meant to her before to cause such an intense reaction from simply hearing his name.

Anna unwittingly answered the first of her questions, her words soft and reverent. "Suiciding isn't allowed under the pact—the suicided will simply reform at the god's main altar—at the altar you mentioned waking up at. We thought—we never considered that transferring enough mana to die in the process of restoring Godcat's font would constitute as suicide, but it must have, for you to be here now." Her emerald eyes were suspiciously wet as she scanned Natalie's silver-flecked blue ones. "I... I've really missed you, Natz—we all did. I'm sorry you were all alone and in so much danger when you returned, but I'm so glad you're back."

Natalie swallowed against the lump that formed in her throat at Anna's emotional words. Both Lance and Anna were watching her with a sort of fervent joy, but they also looked wary, and it took her a few moments to realize why.

"I forgive you. And I... I didn't realize I'd missed you so much, but I did. Thank you for finding me."

Lance cleared his throat, and blinked rapidly before smirking. "Well, we were actually here to track down a 'woman too beautiful to be real'. Those men you scared will be telling stories about you at bars for drinks for weeks."

Natalie's cheeks flushed red, and she shot Lance a glare that had his smirk widening. Ultimately, she gave up and shook her head. "So, what happened to Matt?"

Instantly, Lance's smile vanished, and Anna winced. Natalie's heart plummeted and began to race with fear.

"He isn't... dead... right?"

"No, but he's... isolated," Anna admitted quietly. She couldn't quite meet Natalie's eyes as she explained, "He took losing you incredibly hard. He's practically a different person, now. We were going to visit him tomorrow, but maybe that should wait until you remember as much as you can without meeting him."

Natalie frowned and glanced between them. "Will he attack us?"

"Us? Yes," Lance agreed, gesturing between himself and Anna before nodding at her. "You? I'm not sure. He may recognize you and hold himself back, or he may assume you're some kind of shapeshifter and try to eat you in rage."

" _Eat_ me?" Natalie repeated with a frown.

"Ah, that's right, you wouldn't remember. Matt's a Wyrm: a very old and very powerful dragon. He has a human form he used when hanging out with us and before we knew the truth, but he's never in it now. He much prefers filling the dragon stereotype: lying on a mountain of gold and jewels in remote cave, and incinerating anyone who comes close," Lance explained with a roll of his eyes, though his tone was sad. "We still visit every once in awhile, hoping he'll come around, but no luck, yet."

"Matt is a _dragon_?" Natalie gasped in disbelief.

Anna nodded empathetically. "The last true one left. Though, he shared his blood with you, so you're a half dragon of sorts."

Natalie's jaw dropped and she felt lightheaded. "I'm a _what?_ "

"Maybe you should lie down, get some sleep," Lance suddenly suggested with a worried look at Natalie's shock. "It's been a long several days for you, and this is all a lot to take in."

"I think that would be a good plan," Natalie agreed weakly.

Before long, she was curled in Anna's borrowed sleeping bag inside their tent, and quickly fell asleep while Anna and Lance remained awake to talk.

"I still can't believe it," Anna murmured as she sipped on some tea. "Natalie is back."

Lance nodded with a faint smile. "Yeah. And she seems... better... than when she left. Not so angry and afraid." His smile faded as he cast a look east in the vague direction of Matt's den. "We can't hide this from him for long. It wouldn't be right."

"I'm worried about how little she remembers about him, though. Her being back but not loving him like she used to won't end well. Dragon's are possessive and loyal, after all. And what if she does remember everything else and it triggers a relapse? No, I think it would be better to take her to some familiar places and see if we can help her memory further before we bring her to see Matt."

"Not a lot of places left that she'll recognize," Lance pointed out. "Goldenbrick is nothing like it used to be, and Whitefall is a complete ice field, now."

"But Greenwood hasn't changed much at all. Let's at least take her there, first, and see what it does for her memories. If nothing else, we can get her some proper clothes," Anna suggested firmly.

"Alright, but best keep an eye on her. She might go for the Jewel as she is now," Lance laughed. His smile widened at Anna's bemused look, and he gestured at the sack of stolen goods Natalie had retrieved from the graves. "She's hoarding. I don't think she realizes it, yet, but her dragon blood is attracting her to shiny things. I mean, why else would she only take the gold and jewels? And she took the gold and gems she found underground, too, even though she was clearly thinking about what would be useful or not when she armed herself."

Anna's eyes widened and she covered her mouth to try and muffle her laughter as she realized Lance was right.

**OOOOOO**

Natalie trailed along behind Lance and Anna with her head twisting about, trying to take in everything around her all at once. The more she looked, the more her head hurt, and the more she needed to see. The village was unusual, with houses formed in the bases of live trees. Everyone had green hair and eyes, like Anna, and wore content smiles on their faces as they went about tasks like weaving, stacking firewood, farming, and chatting. It all looked and felt so familiar—even the sweet smell of the clean air was painfully familiar, though she recognized none of the villagers.

Their path led them past a large stump covered in moss and flowering vines. A chain of paper talismans had been hung around it, and there was a low table holding a few offers of flowers and food. Atop the stump rested a glowing emerald shaped like a leaf and edged in gold. Its very surface seemed to resonate power, and Natalie found herself drawn to it despite a voice in the back of her mind telling her it was off limits for very good reasons.

A hand clapping down on her shoulder had her starting out of her daze, and she jumped and turned to see Anna grinning at her.

"I know it's really shiny and pretty, but you can't add the Greenwood Jewel to your hoard, Natz."

Natalie nodded mutely before turning her eyes back on the jewel with a troubled frown. "There are... two more, though, right?" she asked slowly. "Are they here, too?"

Lance was the one to reply. "Yes, there are two more jewels, and no, they aren't here. It's dangerous to have even two together, and having all three in one place makes them all start reacting with each other. Originally, there were two other towns guarding the other two jewels, but they're gone now."

"But what happened to the jewels? Were they destroyed?" Natalie wondered as she finally tore her eyes away from the glowing emerald to look around at the sleepy village again. "And why is Greenwood still okay when the other towns aren't?"

The place didn't seem equipped to survive an event that had wiped out so many of the towns and villages they'd passed on their way here. Demons ran rampant almost everywhere, and where there weren't demons, bandits roamed. Though, Lance and Anna had seemed reluctant to talk of the event, so maybe it simply hadn't been as widespread as she thought.

"No, we moved them long before the towns were destroyed," Anna admitted quietly. "It isn't safe to talk about their location, though: you can never be sure who, or what, is listening, after all. And in the wrong hands, the jewels can be powerful and deadly weapons."

Natalie frowned as Anna avoided her question about Greenwood, but she followed behind the pair as they moved on. Soon, Anna was welcoming her inside a tree house—her house, she'd explained—and they were seated in a loose circle around a table with glasses of some kind of alcohol.

"So, does anything seem familiar? Lance asked, leaning forwards expectantly.

"Yes, very much so," Natalie agreed with a faint smile. Her smile became a little more wry as she admitted, "It's so familiar I keep having to remind myself that I'm awake. Although... none of the people are familiar to me at all, but then they wouldn't be if as many years have passed as you say."

Anna's smile was a little bittersweet as she looked out the window. "I can sympathize with that. I was born and raised here, and nothing much has changed except for the families. It can be hard, sometimes, to walk into the food court and realize the faces I'm seeing aren't the ones I was expecting." Her distant eyes cleared and she added more cheerfully, "But they're family regardless, and I love them; even if their stories about me get weirder every generation."

Lance snorted into his cup and told Natalie, "You should have seen her face when she heard a group of kids calling her the First Ranger. They've got an entire story explaining about how she was born from the trees and the wind, and formed Greenwood single-handedly, pulling all the first villagers from the mud. It's great."

Natalie smiled as Anna flushed pink with a groan. "Were you a founder of Greenwood, Anna?"

"Hardly. The village was already ancient when I was born. I suppose to most people, Lance and I must seem like demigods, but we're not—just really old and really skilled. Sadly, most of the documents from back then have rotted away with time and were never transcribed, so I can't prove it. A few of the elders know the oral history, but those change slightly with each telling, so they aren't one hundred percent accurate, either." She shook her head with a fond smile before moving on. "So, how has the mana focus been going?"

Natalie wasn't quite ready to change topics—everything she was hearing was so fascinating—but she shrugged. "It's going well. I dispelled that rainstorm that was following us, but I don't think you guys noticed. Plus, I haven't used the flint and tinder to start the fire at night for the last week."

Lance and Anna exchanged glances. Natalie was back to having fine enough of control to light a small spark, but broad enough of a range and effect to alter the weather; she'd shown competence and skill in the few battles they'd had, wielding all the elements she used to before her amnesia. It seemed as though her knowledge of magic was as good as they could teach.

The silence stretched on, and Natalie waited somewhat uncomfortably as Lance and Anna seemed to hold a silent conversation. Their expressions were serious, but reluctant, and she wondered if maybe she'd missed something important. A twinge of unease fluttered in her chest as she thought of the strange dreams she'd been having since rejoining them.

"I... Did we fight at some point?" Natalie asked quietly. "Me and Lance, I mean."

She couldn't imagine why: Lance had been an upmost attentive and caring friend, though also an insufferable twit sometimes. Yet the gunner stiffened at her question, and his hand rose to unconsciously rub at his chest. Natalie's eyes darkened as she recalled the faded scar the stretched over his torso.

"It isn't important, now," Anna said flatly in a tone of finality.

But Natalie was tired of having her questions subverted or ignored. She was tired of being cautiously explained things that should have already been hers to know. They'd purposely worded their answers to her most important questions to be as vague as possible, and she wanted to know why.

"Guys, I think I've remembered as much as I'm going to off of coincidence and experiences alone. Now tell me the truth, please. Why did I decide to kill myself back then when there were other ways to achieve what I did? When and why did I attack and harm Lance seriously enough that he has scars centuries later? What happened to the world that made so much of it look completely different than from what I can recall?"

Lance's face crumpled and Anna's eyes darkened. They exchanged a final look before standing.

"Let's go to the story teller's hut," Anna quietly said. "You need to hear what happened from a neutral party, and his visions are... vivid. You'll get to see what happened exactly as it happened." Her voice fell even further as she quietly added, "Just... remember that while you can't change the past, you can learn from it. Don't make the same mistakes as we all did back then. Please."

"And don't be afraid of it," Lance somberly supplied. "Fear and close-minded thinking were what caused it all. Take what you've experienced and felt since waking up, and use it to judge what you're told and will see." He wouldn't quite meet Natalie's eyes as he walked around her. "I don't hate you for what happened, and I understand why it did happen. I just hope you'll be able to reach the same conclusions we did. And if you do, then we'll take you to see... It'll be time for you to meet Matt."

Now Natalie was incredibly nervous. Their entire attitudes had shifted, and she was afraid of what that meant she was about to hear. A feeling of unnamed dread and helplessness began to bubble in her stomach, and she suddenly wondered if maybe she didn't want to hear the answers to her questions at all.

Then, her dream of a smiling blond filled her mind, and her face set. There was no else that blond could be but Matt, and she wanted that feeling of safety, warmth, love, and homecoming back. And if she wanted him back, then she needed to remember; even if she now felt like she was about to see her own funeral.

The storyteller's hut was a long, fallen trunk with smoke rising from a raised section of bark. Symbols and stories had been carved on the walls, depicting legends and monsters. There was no door, but a heavy colored cloth was draped across the entrance, and a faint glow came from underneath. Lance and Anna led the way to the door before stopping and turning to face Natalie.

"We'll wait for you here," Anna announced.

Lance nodded and hesitated before reaching into his adventure pouch and holding out a tarnished necklace with a glowing charm hanging from it. "...Take this with you. If you feel yourself losing control, put it on. You don't have to, of course, but it will help if you think you can't control yourself on your own."

Natalie's fingers trembled as they closed around the pendant, and her throat was dry. "Why won't you come in?" she asked in a small voice.

"The story teller's magic works off of memories—either from a single person, or a collection from a crowd. We were all there when this event happened, and we all remember it slightly differently; we don't want to skew what happened with our own thoughts and regrets," Lance explained quietly. His eyes drifted to the side and he added in a low whisper. "I don't want to see it again, anyway."

Anna's smile was wan as she rested a hand on Natalie's shoulder. "You'll be fine, Natz. Just remember that everything you'll see is made of illusions and smoke. Nothing in there can hurt you. We'll be waiting right here when you come out. I promise."

Natalie swallowed and nodded back before pushing her way past the cloth drape. Inside the hut was warm and dark compared to outside. A fire pit blazed in the center with smoke rising up to drift out of a hole in the ceiling. Tapestries hung from the walls and ceiling depicting the same stories as decorated the walls of the hut outside. A sweet scent filled the air from incenses burning on an altar in the back.

For several moments of careful scanning, Natalie thought that maybe she was the only one inside, and nearly turned around to head back out. Then, a huddled shape shifted in a chair across the fire from where she stood, and she jumped. An elderly man with long, green hair so faded it was nearly gray raised a wizened hand to beckon her to take a seat. His eyes were bright and sharp with intelligence and wisdom, and his smile was warm and open.

"Welcome, stranger, to Greenwood's story hall," he greeted in a rasping voice. "What brings you to me? Is it a thirst for history, for forgotten rites, for songs of the ancients? Perhaps you wish to hear tales of great heroes and triumphant hunts? Or do you seek legends so chilling that the moans on the wind will haunt you for days to come?"

Natalie found herself distracted by a wisp of smoke that she swore had formed a seed that rapidly sprouted and grew into a tree. In the next instant, she blinked, the image was gone, and she wasn't sure if she'd imagined it or not. She shook herself and brought her eyes back to the storyteller who watched her with a knowing gleam in his eyes, and found herself telling him something that she was sure would sound insane to anyone outside of herself, Anna, and Lance.

"Anna told me that you could tell me what happened before I died," she whispered. "Something happened that changed the world, and I can't remember what it was, and she and Lance won't tell me."

The storyteller's gaze flickered with shadows before something akin to realization and surprise lit his eyes. "Ah, you must be Natalie, their late fourth companion—though clearly not as dead as they once assumed." He shifted slightly to get more comfortable, and reached to a small covered pot sitting on a table beside him. "The story you seek is a tragic one, filled with accidents and consequences. You were a focal point to many of the events that passed, but know that no matter actions taken, no matter the intended purpose, or the results, the world survived and carried on. No one person can truly hold the blame for everything—not you, nor I; neither Lance, nor Anna; neither Matt, nor even Godcat herself. Do you understand me, Natalie?"

"I... I think so," she replied uncertainly. "I shouldn't blame myself or anyone else for things that now seem so obviously stupid."

"Nor should you blame anyone in the future for making decisions based on the facts they had," the storyteller agreed. "Now, this tale takes us back over seven hundred years, to a time when demons did not exist, and great swathes of the land remained unmarked by Man's hand..."

Natalie's fingers curled in the skirt of her dress and she listened intently as the storyteller's voice took on a deep, resonating tone. And the more she listened to him describing a stormy night where three friends fought and lost to their fourth friend, the more she thought she could actually see the events. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as the fire flared a little higher and smoke filled the air from a dash of powder being thrown upon it; her heart began to beat faster with an anxious dread before all but stopping as a phantom pain pierced it.

But the story didn't stop with Matt leaving herself and the others in the cave with a ruined altar. It danced across years of unease and mistrust, delved into a tentative truce among friends and fragile bonds being reforged. Natalie didn't notice the tears now trailing down her face as she saw and remembered losing control, and lashing out at Matt. She didn't notice that the story teller's voice was barely an echo as she relived hiking up a mountain trail. She didn't hear when he faltered and seemed to study the mists and images he'd conjured from her mind and his magic before continuing on.

Fear choked Natalie's throat as she suddenly realized that it was her actions that had ripped open the portal that allowed demons to flood her world. The others hadn't known what had caused the rip, and she hadn't told them, but she remembered them suspecting the truth; Lance had gotten Matt to dig up an artifact to collar her magic, an artifact she now had clenched in a sweaty palm. Godcat had certainly known when she'd summoned them to discuss reinvigorating a font, yet the goddess hadn't told her friends, nor blamed her for her foolishness.

Gods, how many hundreds- _thousands_ had died because she'd set hordes of demons upon them? She had single handedly altered the natural course of the entire world by trying and failing to control her magic. It made her sick to think about it, and the feeling of nausea rang true from her memories. And so she'd made a desperate promise to the dead and living to fix her mistake, no matter the cost.

Her life had seemed so valuable at the time, she bitterly thought. How vain, to think her own life ending could possibly make up for the thousands of lives she'd stolen, and the thousands more she could have saved had she stayed alive.

And what of Matt? He'd dedicated his existence to the careful guarding and comforting of her. He'd loved her, offering her something she had thought she would never have from him. But once he'd offered it, she hadn't been able to accept it.

It was no wonder he'd retreated from the world after her death. Who could blame him? He'd survived centuries upon centuries of cruel servitude, and countless people had wormed their way into his heart only to betray him, and she was no different. If anything, she had been worse, having successfully won his heart only to refuse it. He'd assumed she would be fine with or without him, and had left her behind to face a superior foe alone. But that wasn't what she had thought: she had thought he'd blamed her, and she'd chosen that moment to make everything up to him.

And Lance had tried to stop her. He'd faced her down, first with words, and then with actions. And just like with Matt's heart, she'd trampled over him. That scar on his chest was the mark she'd left. She'd turned the elements upon him, and he could never have overcome her magic—gods, she'd _set him on fire_. How could she look him in the eyes now? She easily could have killed him, and unlike her, he would have been permanently dead.

The sight of her own funeral pyre nearly caused her to throw up. The anger and words Lance lashed Godcat with echoed with pain. And Matt had passed out from shock and grief, only to send the others away when he woke. Now he guarded a hoard of treasure at the edge of the world, alone.

Abruptly, Natalie found herself staring at the fire in the storyteller's hut, feeling dazed and weak. Her body trembled, her cheeks were covered in tears, and her clothing was damp from sweat. She stiffly brought her right hand up and uncurled her clenched fingers to stare at the tiny pendant that was nearly embedded in her skin from being grasped so tightly.

No wonder Lance had seemed so hesitant to give it to her. It was as a symbol of how dangerous she could be—to herself and others. It was a symbol of a lack of faith, but also a promise of safety. It had been her collar and her freedom. Without it bringing her magic to heel, she could never have traveled with her friends.

"What should you have done differently? What can you do differently this time?"

Natalie slowly raised her head to look at the storyteller who watched her with no judgement or anger. "I should have trusted them... they could have helped me control myself—Matt did help me control myself, once." Her eyes welled with fresh tears and she choked back a sob. "But how can I face them? Lance was right: I can't be trusted. Just look at what I did without even trying; look at what I did to him when I was trying."

The storyteller shook his head with an understanding frown. "Without trying, you single-handedly taught a bitter and ancient creature to love again. And while trying, you saved the world from the terrors of the devourer, Akron."

"And I doomed that same creature to centuries of heartache and misery, and I doomed the world to an endless plague of demons!" Natalie cried. She stared at her hands with disgust and shook her head. "I don't want this power if it can do things like that..."

"It is a great and terrible power, and it comes with equally great and terrible responsibility," the elder agreed in a murmur. "But power without focus is inert. One must choose to do something with power for it to have any effect at all—for good or for ill. Take your friends, Lance and Anna: they use their power to purge demons and rebuild villages and lives. Yet just as easily as they restore—perhaps even more easily—they could raze. The difference lies in their choice."

Natalie's shoulder's slumped a little as she listened, but she didn't look up from her hands.

"Matt has a power even greater than theirs. Yet rather than use it for good or evil, he squanders it. He sits, he sleeps, and he mourns. His power does nothing. That, too, is a choice."

"But back then, I... I didn't choose to lose control, and it happened anyway," Natalie whispered. Her head ducked and she squeezed her eyes shut. "How can I know it won't happen again?"

The storyteller folded his hands in his lap. "You did choose. You chose to let your fear control you. Fear is often irrational, and that irrationality reflected in your magic as an erratic power. Clearly it is not always in control, however. After all, you seem to be doing well now, are you not?"

Natalie's trembling stilled as she considered that. Lance had said something similar more than once. He knew exactly what had gone wrong with her magic—what could go wrong again. It was why he'd returned her pendant, and why he'd so often told her not to fear her magic. Yet he'd also known she was headstrong, even vain, when it came to magic, and would never have listened to his advice. And he had reminded her to consider everything she now knew with regards to when she hadn't known. She'd certainly been afraid in the necropolis, but her magic had never gone haywire. She had refused to panic, and instead channeled her fear into rational thought.

And if she could do it back then with no grasp or control over her magic, then why the hell couldn't she do it now when she knew the proper techniques?

Natalie finally looked up and met the storyteller's calm gaze. "Thank you," she whispered fervently. "Thank you for telling me the story, and thank you for sharing your wisdom."

"It is only as my role dictates. Now, I do believe there are people waiting for you outside. So go, Natalie. Go and use your power for good."

Natalie nodded, wiping her cheeks with her palms. She stiffly stood, her knees protesting moving after so long in the same position, and bowed deeply to the storyteller. He returned the gesture with a nod before shutting his eyes and seeming to meditate.

The late afternoon sun was blinding after so long in the dim hut, and Natalie paused and rapidly blinked against the reflexive tears. It had been several hours since she'd first entered, she realized in surprise. With a deep inhale of the clean air to clear the remainders of the incense from her nose and mind, she turned to face Lance and Anna.

Both were silently watching her with somber expressions. They took in her once-again clear, ocean blue eyes with no flecks of silver, and knew she must have regained the rest of her memories. Her face was certainly pale enough to suggest she'd seen something as harrowing as her own death. Now they could only wait to see what she had to say to them.

"I can see why you didn't want to hear all that," Natalie finally said quietly with a shadow of an attempted smile on her lips. She hesitated, unable to quite meet their eyes for a few moments before squaring her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I- I can't make up for what I've done—to you and everything else. I should have trusted you, back then, but I didn't. I can see why I didn't, but I was still wrong. Things would have turned out much differently if I hadn't run from myself and hidden from you."

Lance shook his head. "We were hardly blameless for everything. I didn't trust you, either, and I wasn't mature enough to handle what was happening in the right way. If we hadn't rushed you off of the isolation of Matt's island, and I hadn't foisted a suppressive amulet on you, then we could have actually dealt with your fears and frustrations. Instead, we barreled off headlong into action, and we reaped the consequences of what we sowed."

Anna nodded her agreement with a miserable frown. "I could have been sympathetic, or I could have been supportive, but instead I blamed you. I blamed you for being angry, I blamed you for being afraid, and I blamed you for how you handled that anger and fear. I'm well aware that I can have a sharp tongue; I just wish I'd had the same grasp of time and place for all words that I do now."

Natalie swallowed against the lump in her throat and stepped forwards to throw her arms around her friends. "I'll do better this time. I promise," she whispered.

"We all will," Lance replied just as quietly as he returned her hug.

When they stood back, Natalie had a determined glare in her eyes. "Let's go pick up Matt. Seven hundred years is plenty of time to mourn. And, really, there's no reason to anymore."

"It might not be that easy to get through to him," Lance cautioned. "He's dangerous, and not at all the same as he was."

Natalie shook her head. "He'll listen to me," she refuted firmly. Her lips curled in a humorless smile. "He wouldn't dare not to."

And so they stopped by Anna's house for a quick meal of fruit and cold sandwiches. It was there that Natalie handed back the amulet Lance had given to her.

"Thank you for giving me the choice, but I don't need it now," she told him. "If I have enough power to change the world for the worse, then I sure as hell better have enough power to change it for the better. And I can't do that if I hide my mana under an amulet, right?"

Lance's smile was a beautiful thing to see as he pocketed the amulet. "I knew you didn't need it, but I'm glad you had it just in case. You ready to talk some sense into Matt?"

"Always. Let's go."

Anna led the way to the warp stone where she took a deep breath. Natalie watched with interest as the the ranger gained an aura of shimmering light, and realized Anna must have been really practicing her magic since the fallout. In the next instant, they were standing on a rocky shore with the sun sinking onto the waves. At their feet, half buried in the stone and hidden under a camouflage net of fake seaweed and driftwood, was a second warp stone.

"Matt destroyed the first several we placed," Anna explained quietly. "Turns out dragons have an eye for shiny stuff, and warp stones are always shiny."

Natalie nodded her understanding before turning her eyes to the looming peak over their heads. "So Matt will be in his dragon form?"

"Just inside the cave," Lance confirmed tensely, scanning the sky for any sign of Matt being out and about. "He's certainly not swooping down to kill us, at any rate."

Natalie's expression darkened with concern, but she said nothing else as she started the hike up the cliff side. Time had changed the path, and weather had further eroded the trail to make it treacherously unstable. Anna led the way, guiding them to safe footing as they climbed ever higher. The very air seemed heavy with tension, and the forest above them was too silent. In fact, the only noises were from the endless crashing of waves against the rocks far below, and the wind moaning through cracks in the cliff.

It was far more depressing now, Natalie thought sadly. Even the mountain above looked different—more jagged and imposing than it used to.

Finally, they reached the edge of the forest on the plateau, and the dark entrance of Matt's den yawned before them. Natalie eyed the opening with a frown, reaching out with her senses—both magical and not—to try and find Matt. He was certainly nearby, but something told her he wasn't in the cave. Something else told her that danger was near. On instinct, she reached out to grip Anna's arm to prevent the ranger from stepping out into the open.

Anna shot Natalie a confused glanced, but stepped back again. She followed Natalie's gaze up above the cavern entrance. Nothing was there that she could see, but she knew Natalie had better night vision, thanks to her dragon blood.

And indeed, Natalie had spied something that caused her breath to stall in her chest. The mountain did indeed look different, and that was because Matt was sleeping on top of it. He was even larger than she remembered, and she belatedly recalled him once explaining that a dragon's form never stopped growing as they aged. He'd added twice again to the mountain's height, and a coating of dust and grit cloaked his gleaming scales so that he looked the same shade as the mountain face. His spine formed a jagged cliff, his wings two more peaks. His tail was curled around the mountain, ending barely ten feet away as a bulge in the earth. His head rested just over the cavern entrance, and easily as large, with a face seemingly carved from stone.

"What's up, Natz?" Lance asked quietly.

"He's _huge_ ," Natalie breathed. "I mean, he was big before, but now... Gods, if I hadn't known he was here, I would never have seen or guessed he was there."

Lance stiffened and raised his eyes the the dark peak of the mountain. While he couldn't see the details like Natalie could, he could tell the mountain was much taller than it should be. Matt had never assumed his largest form since that battle against the dark dragon, and no wonder. There was no way in hell he could fit in the cave at that size.

"Maybe we should wait until dawn," he suggested uneasily. "Anna and I can't see well in the dark like you—and he—can."

Natalie shook her head. "No. If I'm going to get him to listen to me, then now is my best chance. He'll think he's sleeping—dreaming. You and Anna stay back and move downwind so he won't smell you. With any luck, he won't sense you before he notices me." Her grip on her staff tighten and she added softly, "And if he dares to try and attack me, well... he'll get a taste of my magic."

Anna and Lance swallowed their protests, and silently nodded before melting back into the forest. They moved around to a vantage point some distance away where Anna cast a weak night-eye spell. The scene below was blurry and in greyscale, but they could see the small shape of Natalie stepping into the open. A faint echo of her voice reached them, though they couldn't hear her words, and their hearts leapt to their throats as the entire mountain moved, uncurling into the enormous wyrm that was Matt.

Natalie gave her friends ten minutes to relocate before taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. She took five steps into the open and crooked her staff in her elbow as she crossed her arms.

"Wake up, Matt," she demanded with far more certainty than she really felt.

A rumble shook the earth, and twin eyes snapped open. The deep, glowing cerulean blues rolled down to fix on her, and the pupils rapidly dilated. Dirt and rocks showered down to expose golden scales as Matt rose to his full height, causing her to have to crane her head to meet his eyes, which she could only manage because he craned his own neck to look down at her with a cold glare. His wings spread wide, making his already awesomely immense form even larger, and he cast a dark shadow over the plateau as his head was silhouetted by the moon so that all she could see were his eyes and the ominous glow of fire behind his fangs.

Eyes that glowed with near-madness, she noted uneasily. It hadn't occurred to her that maybe Matt was no longer sane. But she couldn't give up on him any more than he had been able to give up on her.

Natalie raised her staff and summoned her magic. He was large, yes, but he was still susceptible to gravity, and she watched impassively as his legs buckled under her might, sending him crashing to the ground. Had he been flying, she might have had more trouble, but as it was, his head landed not far from her and she stepped around his nose to meet his glare with one of her own. He needed to see her—really see her—before she would be forced to let her spell go. Gravity magic was one of the most draining, and he was so large that her spell likely wouldn't last more than a few seconds.

But a few seconds were all she needed. She watched his eye widen and the reptilian pupil contract in shock as he finally recognized her. Barely a second later, and she let her magic go with sweat beading her brow. She could see her own reflection in his eye, which was nearly as big as she was tall.

"Can you manage a civilized discussion with me?" Natalie finally asked quietly. She didn't even realize that she'd slipped back into her old speech.

Matt didn't move or speak; he simply stared at her with a gleam of devastated longing and disbelief in his eye. He actually flinched away when she raised a hand to brush the ridge of his brow. Natalie drew her hand back before touching him and bit her lip.

"I've... been gone awhile, I've been told," Natalie whispered. She swallowed when he shuddered at her voice, and tried for a weak smile. "You've gotten... really tall."

Matt shifted, but not in a menacing way. All he did was bring his legs in more comfortably and furled his wings back against his sides. His eye remained fixed on Natalie and seemed to silently beg her to keep talking.

"It took awhile for me to get back to you. I had some trouble on the way," Natalie went on.

She risked settling down on the ground with her legs tucked under her and her staff resting on the ground beside her, never breaking Matt's gaze. The ground was chilly, she distantly noted, but not unbearably cold—or perhaps that was simply her dragon blood warming her.

"I couldn't even remember who I was for a while there. Something must've gone wrong with Godcat's pact, because I reformed at her altar, but way late and not really complete. You know there's an entire forgotten city underneath where Goldenbrick used to be? It's full of treasure... and undead."

And so Natalie quietly talked to Matt for several hours on end. Her throat became dry and tired from use, and a tight feeling persisted in her chest, but she couldn't bear to stop talking. Matt looked as though his very life depended on hearing her voice, though he had yet to make any noise at all, himself.

So she told him about her adventure beneath the earth, of coming out into the sun and being found by Lance and Anna. She talked about how surprised she'd been to meet them and learn about the world again. Her voice nearly broke as she recalled the storyteller and his advice, and the epiphany she'd had. Finally, she apologized for not living up to his hopes and dreams, and for leaving him alone.

Still, Matt said nothing. The sun was rising, bathing them in soft, pink light and glinting off of Matt's scales. But despite the beautiful, serene moment, Natalie felt a deep sadness at Matt's silence.

"Won't you talk to me?" she pleaded in a low voice. Her fingers curled in her lap before she relaxed them and brought one hand up to her heart. "It hurts here, still. I want it to stop, and I think only you can make it stop hurting. Please, Matt."

Matt's wings rustled slightly, but he didn't say anything. To him, he was dreaming, and he never wanted it to end. Never before had one of his dreams of Natalie been so realistic. He could smell her, see her, hear her, and sense her. Almost always, all he could do was see her; the only times he heard her were during nightmares of her screams—of pain... or of anger.

Natalie's shoulders slumped and she finally broke eye contact to duck her head to hide behind her bangs as her hand fell back to her lap. "I understand that I was a horrible person back then. You trusted me and I couldn't give you the same trust. You loved me, and I couldn't give you the same love. You even went so far as to share your blood with me, but I couldn't respond the way I should have. Maybe... Maybe we missed our chance, huh?" A few tears trickled down the bridge of her nose to splash on her hands, and her voice was tight as she asked. "Can I come back and talk to you like this again? It... It helps a little. I'd like to come see you again."

Matt could almost agree with that. He'd like to see her again, too, of course, but he'd rather she never went away. But he could tell the peaceful spell of his dream was ending, and he'd soon wake up. Indeed, Natalie was standing and backing away, despite his longing stare.

A flicker of movement behind her finally had his gaze shifting, and his eyes narrowed slightly on a pair of familiar figures waiting just inside the trees. Lance and Anna knew they weren't welcome here anymore, and they'd dared to come back again, anyway. He'd have to find and destroy their latest teleport stone. Maybe this time they'd finally give up and leave him to his dreams and nightmares. Like the one of...

Natalie... walking away... sharing a hug with them... and breaking into tears...

Matt's eyes widened, and his head shot up. He barely registered Lance's gunblade all but appearing in his hand before falling to the ground.

Natalie wasn't a dream; she wasn't a vision, or an illusion. She was back! How, he didn't know, but he also didn't care. Without even registering his shift, he was dashing across stone on two legs to tackle her to the ground with his arms clamped around her waist. He barely had the presence of mind to be sure to twist their fall so that he'd absorb the impact. Sobs shook his form, and tears poured from his eyes as he clung to Natalie with desperation. She was back, and he was never letting her go again.

Natalie squeaked in surprise and went entirely stiff at the sudden impact and embrace before letting out a grunt as she and Matt hit the ground. She stared at the side of his head and swallowed as it sank in that he must've heard her. He was crying against her neck—horrible, body wracking sobs—and was holding on to her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. Before long, she felt a series of loving kisses fall against her neck, and her expression softened even as a blush rose on her cheeks. The persistent ache in her chest that had only gotten worse the more she remembered, finally began to die down.

"Let me sit up so I can greet you properly?" she asked in a breathless murmur. She nudged his head with her own when he didn't move and added lightly, "Or at least let me breathe?"

Matt started and instantly sat up, hauling her with him, and loosened his grip just enough so that she could take a deep breath. His mouth wobbled as she turned around in his grasp to smile at him, and he swallowed against the fresh wave of tears that threatened to fall. He'd just been about to speak when Natalie tilted her head and leaned up to press a deep kiss to his lips, sending lightning through his veins. With a sigh through his nose, he pressed closer to deepen the kiss and shut his eyes while one of his hands buried in her soft hair.

Lance and Anna stood a few feet away with ecstatic smiles on their faces. Anna had tucked herself against Lance's side with his arm around her waist, and she let out a happy sigh.

"This has been too long in coming," she breathed so that only Lance could hear, not wanting to disturb the reunited couple.

"I thought it would never come," Lance admitted softly. His smile grew a little wider and he shook his head in amazement. "Yet Natz pulls another miracle—two, actually."

Matt heard the two speaking, but he refused to pull away from Natalie long enough to acknowledge them. A burning fire that had gone cold at her death flared to life again, bringing with it old and new dreams and hopes. It took her pulling back to gasp for air to get him to withdraw and realize his own lungs were aching. His eyes remained shut for a few moments as he simply basked in her warmth and scent. Finally, he brought an arm up to wipe the tears from his face and let out a soft laugh before opening his eyes.

"Natalie," he breathed in a reverent voice, saying her name for the first time since she'd died.

The mage shivered at the way he spoke her name like a prayer. Her eyes were wide and flickered with more emotions than she could give name to, and her mouth hung slightly open. She swallowed twice before trusting herself to speak, but wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm back," she whispered lamely. A lump formed in her throat at the dazed smile that spread on his face, and she felt an enormous guilt well up as she choked out, "Matt, I'm so, so sorry. I- I wasn't thinking back then. I was angry, and confused, and afraid, and... And I hurt you. Badly. Will you let me try again? To be better, I mean, not to hurt you, because I don't want to hurt you, and I didn't. Want to hurt you, of course, and-"

Matt pressed two fingers to her lips to cut off her rambling apology and shook his head. "There's nothing to apologize for or forgive, Natalie. You came back to me; that's all I could ever have asked for," he murmured. His voice fell and shifted to a rasping language that startled Natalie to hear, " _Natalie, my beautiful queen._ "

"Your... queen?" she repeated in an uncertain whisper, causing Matt to still and gain a light blush. "What does that mean?"

Matt studied her for a few moments before his expression cleared and he shook his head with a soft smile before standing up and pulling her to her feet as well. "It means you're coming into your blood," he mused more to himself than to her. His expression cooled some as he cast a look at Lance and Anna before shrugging. "Come on, we can talk inside... All of us."

"Still as shiny as ever," Lance commented as they passed Matt's hoard.

"Shinier, since you chucked that stupid rock in here," Matt growled in a disgruntled voice. "Do you know how many gods-damned demons have been here for that blasted jewel?"

Natalie's eyes widened slightly in understanding. "One of the jewels is in here?"

Anna nodded tightly. "Yes. Lance and I decided to hide the Whitefall jewel in Matt's store since he's here at all times, and there couldn't be a finer guard. It was an... interesting effort."

"Interesting is hardly what I would call it," Lance snorted. He shot an unreadable look at Matt's back that Natalie translated as unspeakably angry.

"Um, what happened?" she asked hesitantly, and not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

"I lured Matt from the cave and distracted him while Lance slipped inside to deposit the jewel."

"What she's not saying is that Matt tried very damn hard to kill the both of us in the process," Lance growled bitterly.

"You should have known better than to come back here," Matt snapped. "Besides, I never actually intended to permanently harm or kill either of you, and it is an insult to imply I don't know what I'm doing. If you both had just stayed the fuck away like I told you to, then nothing would have happened."

"You have a duty, Matt; one you've been shirking off on us for seven centuries," Anna hissed with angry tears in her eyes. "And why? Because you couldn't face the truth like we could, so you holed yourself away like the coward you've become, and gods help any stupid idiot who dared disturb you."

Matt's eyes flashed with rage and his pupils slitted in a way Natalie had never seen before; she uneasily wondered if she had looked like that when she'd fought Lance. But now wasn't the time to dwell on past mistakes—not when Lance's hand rested warningly on his gunblade and Matt looked to be seconds away from attacking. With a deep breath she planted herself between the other three.

"Guys, this isn't the way to handle this," she said firmly with a hint of a plea in her voice.

"Matt doesn't know how to 'handle' anything," Anna growled in reply, earning a low snarl from Matt.

Natalie fixed the ranger with a sharp look. "You told me you wished you'd had the presence of mind back then to know when to not say something. Prove to me right now that you've learned it since."

Anna started and her eyes minutely widened before she took a step back. Natalie nodded with a grateful glance before turning her eyes to Lance.

"You're in Matt's home right now, Lance. Leave the weapon away—you know it won't do you any good other than to antagonize Matt, anyway."

Lance's expression soured, but he nodded stiffly and let his hand relax by his side. Natalie turned her gaze on Matt next.

"They aren't wrong, Matt. You should have helped them over all these years. But!" she raised her voice when Matt opened his mouth to object and spoke over his protest, "I can see why you did. You know better than any of us what it means to be a guardian, and the fact that you chose to ignore the pact anyway speaks volumes of how you felt." Her voice fell some with uncertainty as she held Matt's now-detached eyes. "If you're going to blame them and chase them away, then you have to do the same to me, too. I'm just as guilty as they are for what happened—in fact, I'm even more so. And they're trying to do better by me- by us. They helped me when I needed them and had no firm memories. And instead of trying to wash away what had happened like it had never passed, they helped me regain what I'd lost and rebuild what I'd broken. Let me have the chance to do the same for them, please."

Matt looked unmoved by Lance and Anna's purported actions, but Natalie's plea softened his gaze. Several long moments passed in tense silence before he heaved a sigh. "Fine. They can come on the island: I won't attack them or try to drive them off anymore, I swear it."

"How... generous... of you," Lance replied drolly, causing Natalie to shoot him a warning glare. He took a step back and was followed by Anna. "We'll leave you two here for tonight and tomorrow."

Natalie nodded with a grateful smile, even though a twinge of unease ran through her. Matt was so very different from what she knew, and she wasn't sure she could connect with him as he was now. A tiny, dark part of her mind wondered if she was even safe with him. He'd attacked Lance and Anna, after all, and their crimes had been imagined while hers had been all too real. Then she chased that doubting voice away: this was Matt, and changed or not, he clearly still loved her. He wouldn't hurt her.

And so, with parting hugs to Lance and Anna, Natalie was left in the cave with Matt. She took a deep breath before turning to meet Matt's eyes, only to find him staring at her unblinkingly. With an awkward scuff of her foot, she broke the staring contest to glance at the treasure.

"So, um, where is the jewel? Just sitting in a pile?"

"It's in a crevice over the chamber. Less likely to be spotted there, and fewer creatures can squeeze inside to get their paws on it," Matt replied flatly with a flash of irritation in his eyes at the thought of the magical stone.

Natalie winced and made a mental note to avoid discussing the jewel. "Alright... So, um..."

Matt was still staring at her, and she found herself fidgeting as she cast about for something to say, and all the while thinking it had never been so difficult to talk to him before.

"You called me your queen," she finally reminded. "Is that a title for dragons?"

Matt's lips quirked and he shook his head fondly, though his cheeks heated. "In a sense. A queen is a female dragon—a dragoness. To say you're my queen is..." His voice trailed off before he gathered himself. "It means you're the only one for me. You're the one I'd share my den and hoard with, you're the one I'd fight to keep and protect, and you're the one to share my life with. Dragon's don't mate for life, per say, but there is only ever one partner at a time."

Natalie's cheeks flushed a brilliant red and she felt a distinctly pleased thrum resonate from her heart. "So it's like a... a wife for dragons?"

"Sort of, but on a more possessive level. You can divorce a wife, but only death ends a dragons' bond."

Natalie's mind drifted back to the robe Lance had brought her back _before_ —well over a lifetime ago. Thanks to her recent experiences, she knew that garment had come from the time of the kitten kingdom. And if she were following Matt's explanation correctly...

"So dragons don't have casual lovers?"

Matt laughed at the question and at how red Natalie's face became. "Of course dragons have casual lovers. Where it moves from a fling to a true bond is when a dragon invites their chosen to share their space. Dragons are highly territorial, so to allow another into your den shows you trust them enough to not to attack you for your hoard. It often means romance, but not always."

Natalie's mind raced as different pieces than she'd been seeking fell into place. Lance and Anna had come uninvited, and furthermore, they had admitted to fighting Matt. If that were the case, then it was little wonder Matt had been so aggressive and unwelcoming to them. Grief aside, he'd clearly fallen back on a more instinctual lifestyle, so they had been trespassers and potential threats.

"...Maybe you should get some sleep," Matt suddenly suggested. "You were up for most of the night talking to me, after all. You must be tired."

She was exhausted, but there was no way she could sleep now—not when she'd been reunited with Matt. And she still wanted to know who the woman who'd owned the dress had been, and what she'd meant to Matt. With a deep breath and a mental promise to herself to keep an open and fair mind, she looked up to meet Matt's eyes.

"...Back when I lost control of my mana," she started, only to falter when a look of agonized guilt crossed Matt's face. Luckily, he still prompted her to go on, and she hesitantly continued, "Lance brought me a change of clothes the following day, since mine had been soaked and left on the floor all night."

"Yes...?" Matt slowly asked in a confused voice, unsure of where she was going with this. Inanely, he wondered if she was finally getting her vengeance for stripping her back then.

"He brought me a dress unlike any I'd ever seen before. It was made of something lighter yet stronger than silk, dyed a crimson red with golden embroidery. I can't imagine him being a closet cross-dresser with an exotic taste in clothes, so the garment had to have come from your hoard."

"You want to know who it had belonged to," Matt guessed in a tone that said he wasn't really asking a question.

His expression was entirely neutral—too much so for Natalie to believe he was actually impassive about it. She nodded slowly and glanced away with uneasy embarrassment.

"Looking at it made me realize you'd furnished your room to a woman's tastes, then I found out you had stone steps leading up to your den; they'd worn away to mere bumps, of course, but no stone has ridges that evenly spaced while still remaining so smooth from weathering. And... while I was underground, I- I had some visions. There were these... cat-people in a costal city, and they wore the same kinds of clothing, just maybe not so grand."

"The Cathins," Matt agreed calmly. "They were Godcat's most favored children, and the actual masterminds behind all the ruins and creations from the time of her rule. My lover wasn't a furry, if that's what you're getting at."

Natalie smiled slightly at the joke and shook her head, but went on. Her eyes held Matt's as she quietly revealed, "I thought maybe it was my memories manifesting in a weird way until I got all of them back, but now I'm not so sure. I know you were alive back then, and you appeared in more than one vision, plus the dress Lance brought was the exact same cut and style. One vision involved a young woman: a warrior, I think, with black hair and a golden circlet. You called to her, caught her up and kissed her; you looked... very happy."

"What does it matter? She's long since dead, and at my claws," Matt bit out in a tight voice, clearly not wanting to discuss this matter.

And Natalie nearly let it drop, not wanting to upset him. But a part of her couldn't let the issue go: it had started from a sense of inadequacy back before, then it had spiraled rapidly out of control. But were her peace of mind and effort to be more open with herself and others worth tearing at what was likely an old scar on Matt's soul—maybe even still an open wound? Perhaps she could let this one go and simply accept there were things she just couldn't know or change.

"It doesn't, I suppose," Natalie finally murmured, looking down at her feet. "I just... It's complicated."

Matt's expression softened at the uncertain sadness to Natalie's voice. "What is it, Natalie? You wouldn't bring it up at all if it weren't important to you, I'm sure." He reached out to touch her chin and bring her gaze up, then ran a soft thumb across her cheek. "Does it upset you that I loved other people before I met you?"

"No... Yes... A little... I don't know," Natalie mumbled. "I accept that you've been alive for longer than most creatures can imagine, and it would be ridiculous to think I've been the only one true love of your entire life. I'm a little jealous, I guess, but that wasn't why I was asking."

Matt looped an arm around her slender shoulders to guide her deeper into his den. They wound up on the dusty couch in his library. It was there that Natalie spied the old journal, the start of it all, and she let out a shaky sigh.

"I didn't understand you being a dragon. Once I learned the truth, I thought it was little wonder that you never seemed to show that you might possibly love me, too."

"I never judged you on your blood or species, _my beautiful queen_ ," Matt assured her with a small frown.

Natalie's heart fluttered at the loving title in an exotic tongue, and her cheeks lightly flushed. She looked up to meet his eyes again, and tried to smile reassuringly. "It wasn't that I thought you saw me as lesser or anything, but that I thought you _couldn't_ love me. Sure, you looked like a human—talked and behaved like a human—but you weren't really one. I thought maybe dragons could only... marry, love, mate, whatever... other dragons. Lance had mentioned something about dragon libidos, and that you'd never reacted to any pretty women we saw—myself included, though he didn't say or mean to imply that. I thought I was something that could never hold that kind of place in your heart and life. I didn't understand, and I was too afraid to approach you about it then."

Matt's face fell as he whispered, "That wasn't the case at all. I just... I think my mind had already declared you to be mine, in a way. I had no eyes for anyone else, but I was wary of pursuing you for many reasons—my longevity and history, being two of those reasons. Not that you could have known that, of course. But what does that have to do with the dress?"

Natalie's eyes dropped again, and she clasped her hands in her lap. Her voice was low as she said, "All the signs—the dress, the décor, the steps—added up to me realizing that whomever you'd loved before, they couldn't have been a dragon. Dragons have no need for stairs when they can fly up a cliff, they don't need a bed when they're just as happy to curl up on a pile of gold. And I'd lashed out and hurt you when you were vulnerable, and it made me realize that the reason wasn't that you couldn't love me, but that you simply didn't. And I could see why. I... I've hated myself for a large portion of my life. It was in varying degrees of hatred over the years, but it... My self esteem might as well by classified as nonexistent. I was rejected from my family and society because of my magic, I never seemed to be enough for anyone to truly notice, I could only seem to hurt my closest friends and you, a person I loved, and I couldn't control my magic. I tried to find some small comfort in the idea that it wasn't me that was the problem for us, only to realize you could, and had, loved other women. And everything I tried to do to control my frustration with myself and the world always backfired or blew up in my face."

Matt's heart ached as he listened to the truths that had motivated the events long ago. It had started as something small and manageable, but had rapidly snowballed to disastrous proportions. And the logic she'd worked off of was so painfully easy to follow in hindsight that it was hard to fault her in any way, even as a gentle chide. But she wasn't done speaking just yet, though he could smell the tears in her eyes.

"I thought, maybe this time I can be better," Natalie breathed. "I want to face my problems, worries, and fears head on. I... I want to show you I trust you enough to come to you when I'm upset, and that I don't blame you, but rather believe you can help me find the right of it all. That's why I brought up the dress and the past lover. I want to move past it, to bring that part of my life and those issues to a close. Because that stupid little thing could have been cleared up in less than a day if I'd just talked to you like I should have. I would never have lost control of my magic, I would never have opened the portal to let loose the demons that plague the world now, and I would never have believed my death could fix anything. We could have had these last seven hundred years together, but we didn't because I was too afraid to try and face reality." She looked up once again and searched Matt's glimmering eyes as she asked, "Can you forgive me for being a coward, and will you help me be brave?"

Matt's response was to lean down and press his lips to hers. A low moan rumbled in her throat as he licked his way into her mouth to languidly run his tongue along hers in a passionate kiss. Unknowingly, he was pressing on the back of her head to hold her close, though she certainly didn't mind, nor planned to escape. It wasn't until he pulled away that he responded in words.

"Though I hold it isn't necessary, I forgive you," Matt murmured. He tilted his head slightly as he studied her flushed cheeks with a faint smile and added, "And I would be honored to be your support as you try to strengthen your weaknesses. And I'm sorry as well. I was secretive back then—I still am, now—and being so closed off only made your troubles worse. I promise to be as open as I possibly can, and I'll explain anything I do that doesn't make sense to you. So don't ever be afraid to ask me to stop and help you."

Natalie let out a soft laugh of relief and leaned forwards to rest her forehead against Matt's chest. "Thank you, Matt. I forgive you, too, though I never thought it was your fault."

They stayed there for a few moments before Matt shifted them around to have her tucked against his side. Several minutes passed in content silence, and Natalie had begun to doze off before he let out a quiet sigh.

"Her name was Dyclara," he murmured with his eyes fixed on the shadows on the far side of the room. "She was a half dragon, like you, though not from my blood."

Natalie's eyes opened, but she didn't move beyond resting a hand on his leg in silent comfort and support. His words were distant as he recalled the dead woman.

"Dyclara was a spitfire: always moving, and always getting into trouble. She was the daughter of a house of nobles, towards the end of the cat dynasty. I met her at the shrine to Helsath, acting in my duty as a guardian. She turned away as soon as I told her to—for the first and only time in her life, she later told me. Not that she stayed away, of course. I fascinated her, I think, as a mature dragon well-versed in his gifts and secluded from the world at that point. She'd come back once every sixth-day with some silly little offering: gold, jewels, a shiny pocket watch, a rack of roast lamb... I had no idea why she did it, and for a long time, I didn't care. As long as she stayed outside the cave and didn't try to figure out how to use the altar, or pester me for details, then she could do as she pleased. We talked, I trained her a little, and we'd take brief walks through the woods around the shrine."

"She sounds like she was nice," Natalie murmured softly.

"She was—very nice. Those visits were the only interactions we shared for over a year and a half. I was relatively new to my duty, and disliked leaving my post for any longer than the time it took to hunt a meal, but I started to look forwards to having her visit, craved her company and companionship. I liked teaching her, too, and I saw her as my protégé Then, one week, she didn't arrive. I brushed it off fairly easily the first time: one missed meeting for a one and a half year period was easily forgivable and understandable. The second miss was harder to explain away. By the third miss, I was afraid she'd gotten bored of coming out to see me. After the fourth miss, I left the mountain of Helsath's shrine for the first time and sought her out."

Natalie listened intently as Matt fondly described the woman he'd clearly fallen in love with so long ago—likely his first real love. And surprisingly, she didn't feel an ounce of jealousy or upset to hear him speak so warmly of another woman. Perhaps, she mused as she shifted to get a little more comfortable—perhaps it was because she knew he was hers now, and would remain that way for as long as they lived.

"So where had she been?" she prompted softly when Matt remained silent, lost in thought.

"As it turned out, she'd been betrothed, and her fiancé and their families didn't like that she was forever traipsing off unchecked to meet with a wild beast in the mountains," Matt snorted. He let out a short laugh as he admitted, "I, ah, crashed the wedding reception, and carried off the bride. I was a little... jealous and possessive, I guess you could say."

" _A little?_ "

"Okay, so I was very jealous and possessive. Dyclara thought it was hilarious, and couldn't stop laughing long enough to thank me for saving her from _a life of dull, wifely duties_ , she called them. We basically eloped that day, avoiding her parents' considerable reach and influence. That was when I found this island and decided to claim it for our own, though she didn't get control of her dragon form for well over fifty years, which is why I had the stairs carved, and the acquired bedroom furnishings."

"That's really sweet, actually. Like fairytale sweet," Natalie hummed. "The dragon carries away the maiden to live a life of freedom and love."

Matt laughed and shook his head. "Depends on who was telling the tale. I doubt her parents thought it was so sweet, anyway." He smiled wider and his voice was wistful as he admitted, "But we were happy, free, and very much in love. And we stayed that way for a very long time."

Natalie's smile faded as she braced herself for the coming turn to the worse.

"Dragon's blood is a tricky thing," Matt murmured morosely. "It's powerful, and takes a lot of willpower to control and direct—willpower Dyclara had never needed to have. And the older a person with dragon blood gets, the more powerful the blood becomes and the harder it is to control. She started to have fits of rage—would fly out to pillage and burn. And I, the naïve and lovestruck lizard I was back then, didn't recognize the signs, nor had the guts to stop her when I realized what was wrong. I kept hoping she'd snap back to herself, that she'd return to being the mischievous, stubborn little troublemaker I'd fallen in love with."

"But she didn't, obviously," Natalie gently prodded when Matt trailed off.

"No, she didn't. By this point, the war against Godcat was well underway. Entire cities were sacked and pillage for any and all wealth and objects of power. The lesser guardian deities were captured, ensnared, and forcibly reformed into the jewels used to seal Godcat. People, cats, Cathins, and beasts everywhere were snatching at any opportunities to become stronger more quickly, and Dyclara ended up being no exception. She... she returned to Helsath's shrine, prayed at the altar, and stole some of the god's power; it corrupted her absolutely. By the time I caught up to her over the kitten capital, she was little more than a raving beast, claiming to be the greatest terror the skies had ever seen, and that we should claim our dominion over the world as our birthright demanded.

Matt let out a shuddering sigh, and his voice was brittle as he finished his tale. "Even if I'd wanted to burn the world and rule over the ashes with her, I couldn't. Helsath had ordained Dyclara's death, and as his guardian I was forced to carry it out. It was my growing lax in my guard that had led to the theft, he claimed, and it was only a fitting punishment to lose that which had made me lose sight of my purpose and duty. It was no contest at all. Dyclara was merely a half-dragon with not even a quarter my age or experience. I brought her down and left her to bleed out on the stone streets of the city as Helsath demanded."

Natalie swallowed at the grief in Matt's voice, and pressed a little closer to him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was never your fault. There were dozens of things I should have done differently—would do differently, if given a second chance. I could have disciplined Dyclara, I could have curbed her instincts by exerting myself over her as her mate, I could have never left Helsath's shrine in the first place... There were many forks in the road where I chose the wrong path. It was an agonizing lesson to learn, but I would never give the experience back. Dyclara showed me to the world beyond the mountain shrine, she showed me what love could be like... and she showed me that both my actions and inactions can have consequences. The last lesson is the hardest to master, and I still don't have it completely learned, but it gets easier with every choice to look ahead and see the consequences."

Natalie nodded and lifted her hand to study it—and her claws. "Lance says I've begun hoarding," she mumbled nervously as she lowered her hand again. "And you mentioned I was coming into my blood. Will I... Am I going to end up being just another Dyclara?"

"It's highly doubtful," Matt soothed with a rub along her back. "Dyclara was half red dragon, and they were always known for being more bestial and prone to violence than gold dragons. Furthermore, you've trained as a mage, and discipline is something engrained to your very being. Yes, you've had instances where you've lost control, but for the amount of mana you have, it's beyond unusual that you haven't had _more_ trouble controlling yourself. And all that's ever held you in check was your own willpower. Besides, my blood was given freely, and I'm here to help you learn the changes to your body and mind. Dyclara took her blood as a prize for defeating a red dragon, and blood not freely given is naturally much more opposed to being assimilated or controlled."

"Huh. I didn't know that," Natalie said curiously, reassured now that she knew she had a much better chance to remain herself.

"You wouldn't. Blood magic is a very primitive and archaic form of the artes that isn't widely used because it isn't as reliable or practical, and the ethics surrounding it have always been contested."

**OOOOOO**

Lance couldn't help being distracted by having Matt traveling with them. If the dragon would stick to one form it wouldn't be as much of an issue, but he didn't. With no need to hide, and a world covered in monsters of all kinds, Matt tended to fluidly shift forms to whatever fit his fancy at the time. And he'd do it mid-stride, too. One moment, he'd be keeping pace with them in human form, then he'd shift to being a large dog-sized dragon trotting at their side, then he'd get bored of that and shift to a hawk-size and ride on Natalie's shoulder.

"What does it feel like to shift?" Natalie asked one day as they sat around the fire, munching on some travelers rations.

Matt looked up from his food and shrugged. "Like breathing, to me. I suppose there's rush of energy, but it isn't anything significant."

"Do you think it's something I could do, too?"

"Sure, with some practice. Your form will never be large as mine, though."


End file.
